


Happy Empire Day!

by 425599167



Series: Truth In Legends [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Queen's Shadow - E. K. Johnson
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-10-04 08:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/425599167/pseuds/425599167
Summary: The first celebration of Empire Day approaches on Naboo, marking the beginning of the New Order and the death of Padmé Amidala. Loathing the new holiday and everything it promises to bring, Sabé and the remaining handmaidens decide to make the Empire’s first anniversary one to remember.





	1. Fancy Meeting You Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of my other Star Wars works, particularly how the characters are depicted in [The Erosion of the Spirit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688336/chapters/15297046), and many plot points from that story get mentioned. It isn’t required you read that first, as I’ve included necessary exposition, but if you enjoy this you might enjoy TEotS as well.

Gentle winds rolled across Theed, disperse, low-lying clouds casting shadows over the plains beneath the city’s waterfalls. The sun and the breeze felt wonderful as Sabé confidently walked through the uppermost levels of one of the Royal Palace’s many towers, disguised in a flight controller's uniform to offer a plausible excuse for being in the palace. The tower had been renovated decades early to house the palace’s computer core, though Sabé was far more interested in the balcony’s position relative to Moff Panaka’s office.

From this vantage point, Sabé pulled the components of her gas-powered dart launcher from her bag, swiftly assembling them, and loaded the listening device. Taking careful aim, Sabé fired the device into the corner of the window at the back of Panaka’s office, where it would hopefully sit indefinitely, drawing energy from sunlight as it listened to the faint vibrations through the wall, only activating periodically to transmit files on her command.

Two years ago, the current situation would’ve been unimaginable to her, even ignoring Padmé’s death. A government headed by a man she’d thought was a close friend, obediently serving 'Emperor' Palpatine.

The listening device was in place, ready to listen in on Moff Panaka.

Why he’d made the decisions he had, she understood perfectly. The aftermath of the Trade Federation invasion left Panaka endlessly concerned for the safety of the planet, and had turned to Palpatine’s New Order as a source of safety. That didn’t mean she agreed or wouldn’t push back against him.

For a month now she’d been back on Naboo, the longest she’d stayed since before the Clone Wars. She’d popped in for a few reasons, sometimes offering her services to Queen Apailana, some more personal business she’d attended to.

Through the thick walls of the lower palace, the gentle rumbling of Theed’s waterfalls could be heard as water drained out from the city’s rivers onto the plains below.

Carefully measuring her pace to appear as though she both had work to do but was not in a rush, Sabé headed towards the staircase that spiraled down the tower. Opening the door, she almost walked directly into an approaching technician, his expression of confidence mirroring her own for the instant before they noticed each other and jumped.

“Startled me there! Must notta heard you walking around,” he said, his voice a friendly drawl as he put a hand on his chest as if to steady his heart. The technician was a few years younger than her, dressed in an ill-fitting, faded mauve jumpsuit, slightly shorter than her with his poor posture, with a friendly if somewhat unintelligent smile and mussed up black hair.

“I apologize,” Sabé said, taking a step to move around him and get out of the building now that her job was done, until she stopped. “I’m sorry, what are you doing here?”

“Some basic maintenance, needed to check the cooling system for the computer core. Pleased to meet you Miss-” the technician took a second to stare at her ID badge. “Tuh-say-bin,” he said as he read ‘Tsabin’ off of her badge.

“It’s pronounced ‘Sah-bin’, actually,” she replied. “And you are?”

“Name’s Darrek,” he replied, as he extended a hand to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you as well,” she said as she grasped his hand. Very firmly grasped it.

“Oh, _you’re_ the one they sent to look at the cooling system,” Sabé said, pretending this was a sudden realization. “They told me someone would be here two hours ago.”

"Yeah, we never get a spare moment," Darrek said with a chuckle as he descended down the stairs ahead of her, while Sabé let him get ahead before sluggishly heading down, letting a gap form between them. Darrek headed off down past the hall's pillars amidst a handful of other guards, janitors, and attendants, Sabé's suspicions growing the further away he got. Internally, she quietly bemoaned how she'd let him get so far away, and into an occupied space.

She’d sliced into the security systems and maintenance logs to make sure no one would be in this section of the palace today, everyone was getting overworked preparing the capital for the Empire Day celebration. There was no way a work order had come in since she’d sliced into the system and they had someone working on it.

‘Slicing’ may have been too strong a word in the case of maintenance. The supervisor’s password was ‘password’.

_Security has taken a sharp plunge since I worked here. Despite Panaka’s increased focus on the subject._

The point was, nobody else was supposed to have been there. _She_ wasn’t supposed to be there.

"Hold on a moment, Darrek," Sabé said as she followed and mentally ran through potential places she could get this guy alone while also confirming that he wasn't who he said he was. "Another concern I have is this malfunctioning terminal in the generator room not displaying power levels accurately, and it's worrying for us over in the hangar because we don't know how much plasma is available to power the starships. My supervisor put in a work order, but no one's checked it out and the generator should take priority, especially so close to Empire Day."

“They didn't, huh? Typical,” Darrek said irritatedly, scratching his stomach before pulling out a datapad. “All they sent me to do was check coolant levels, but I'd be happy to help you. Just need to see if the work order's in and I'll get on it... Uh, I don't see anything about the generator room.”

“I know, but since I ran into you, it might save time if you came with me. Would you mind coming over to look at it?”

“I might, unfortunately,” he said, tapping buttons on the pad. “I don’t know, miss, love to help but we’re really not ‘sposed to fix anything without a proper work order. Got in trouble over that before, causes people to check out the same problem twice and we're short-staffed as it is.”

“It’s only a brief walk away,” said Sabé. “It wouldn’t even be a repair, really. I asked your department to send someone to look at it, not actually complete any work order.”

“Weeeell, if that’s all it is, it shouldn’t be much of a problem,” Darrek replied as Sabé led him back the opposite way. "Mind if I see your ID so I know whose number to put into this?"

"Here you are," she said, offering her fake card to him as he tapped more keys.

"Alright, lead the way."

* * *

Smuggler and knowledge broker Talon Karrde, a.k.a. ‘Darrek’ because that was as clever as he’d been feeling on this particular morning, had learned early in his career the value of going the extra lightyear to ensure success. In this case, slicing into the maintenance department’s computer and forging a fake work order in the palace computer which he had now taken care of.

Well, ‘slicing’ wasn’t really accurate. Not that he was an especially skilled slicer, but this had been alarmingly easy. Karrde understood the need for a simple password sometimes, but ‘password’?

_People like that take all the challenge out of breaking into secure ares._

The arrangement with Tano had lately become more complex than Karrde had expected. Her seemingly-simple request to run interference against Imperial Intelligence or any other inquisitive arm of the Empire to protect Senator Bail Organa quickly turned into a subtler task when Karrde deduced the connection between the Organas’ adopted daughter Leia and a certain Queen of Naboo. In so doing, he’d deduced what Tano truly wanted him to do, and was acting accordingly.

Inside his toolkit was a high-density drive containing data copied from the Theed main computer, every file on that queen, including original genetic records and the altered versions he’d swapped in to prevent anyone from accurately comparing them to those of Leia and discovering how closely related they were.

Would anyone make the connection between the late queen and a one-year-old based on those genetic records? Probably not.

Did he make the alteration anyway to change that ‘probably’ to a ‘definitely’? Damn right. He’d already done it to the records in the imperial senate building, as much as he hated setting foot in that place. It paid to be thorough. Literally. He had credits riding on this. No one could say he wasn’t giving it his all.

Now this left the issue of Tsabin. An unexpected interruption, but nothing he couldn’t talk his way around.

At least, that’s what he’d been thinking before she said she was glad he’d finally made those repairs. He hadn’t made any repairs. The entire story was fake, there was nothing wrong with the place. The phony work order had existed for only a few hours.

_Maybe she’s mixed up what I was lying about with an actual problem that needs solving. Cooling issues are common enough in computer systems that size, that's why I picked it as an explanation._

That small possibility of innocence was quashed once he’d gotten a close look at her ID card and saw it was counterfeit.

_What is she doing here? Who is she? Is she with the Empire?_ he wondered as the two of them walked side by side. _And where is she trying to get me to go?_

_Is this a part of her own plan, she needs a repairman to get her somewhere? Or does she know I’m an imposter? _

* * *

Once the pair had reached the ground level of the palace, Sabé was confronted and momentarily stunned by a stained glass window displaying Queen Padmé Amidala, in her red gown with the golden headdress. Not many people knew how that lavish outfit was made to be easily removed for Sabé to take the queen's place, and the material itself was capable of withstanding blaster shots. How strange it was to miss the days when she was in constant danger from assassination, as opposed to the present when she could go unnoticed.

_At least back then I could be confident my role served a greater purpose._

The realization Darrek had also stopped and was standing next to her jolted her back to reality. Through the glass, banners flying the imperial crest could be seen waving in the breeze, and she turned away bitterly from it.

Out the side of his mouth, Darrek unexpectedly whispered “You really think a Jedi killed her like they say?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Sabé asked coolly, scrutinizing the technician.

“I mean, I uh, I met a few of ‘em. _Before the war_, nothing recent,” he said worriedly and holding his hands up innocently, as if Sabé would report him as a Jedi sympathizer. “I just don’t see what they were trying to accomplish killing the queen. I haven't been on Naboo for very long, but didn’t a coupla Jedis help deal with those Trade Federationers?”

“They did,” Sabé said stoically, and Darrek didn’t seem to know how to respond to the lack of conversation as she walked on.

The walk took them down through an underground structure beneath one the waterfalls which connected the palace and the hangar, providing a faster, more secure path for the queen and her coterie to reach the royal starship than moving through the city streets. Above them, a transparisteel ceiling offered a view of the flowing water above which drained out through one of the city's many waterfalls, sunlight glistening down over the carved stone flooring. One more flight of stairs later, they were almost to the generator room and she would find out who this intruder really was.

* * *

_That was unusual_, Karrde thought as he and Tsabin walked away from the window, Karrde quickly glancing over his shoulder at the rendition of Queen Amidala in her red gown and golden headdress. Even he recognized that particular outfit. It was featured in the travel brochure he got upon arrival.

Wondering why the window would be so interesting, even as much as the citizens of Naboo adored their late queen, a worrying thought occurred. The name 'Tsabin' was familiar, he knew he'd seen it before, but couldn't quite place where.

Tsabin looked a lot like Amidala.

A little too much like Amidala.

Close enough to pass as her with a little work.

Her appearance and age made it possible, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to get government jobs after their queen’s term ended. Karrde tried to match her exact features to images he’d seen of the group, mentally filtering out the makeup she was wearing.

_ Sah-bin. And with the altered names the handmaidens take on... _

The features had grown slightly dissimilar from Naberrie's, especially her height now being equal to his rather than the queen’s, but soon recognized her as being the body double from some of the holos he’d dug through.It took a considerable amount of concentration to maintain his outward appearance of a well-meaning schmuck while also realizing where he'd come across that name before.

_That has to be Sabé._

With that thought, it occurred to him that the handmaidens thrived on being underestimated, as they were heavily-trained combatants fully capable of protecting their queen, and as the one chosen to be the primary bodyguard and double, Sabé must’ve been one of, if not _the_ toughest.

_OH NO THAT’S SABÉ._

Simply learning this specific handmaiden existed, finding out her name used to be Tsabin, had taken some digging into events surrounding Amidala’s senate career, her position as the hidden decoy for Amidala demanding secrecy. Even after her service ended her role remained concealed to prevent enemies of Naboo from knowing how often decoys were used. Judging from what the strength of that handshake and what he could tell of her physique, Sabé had not been slacking off in her physical training since leaving her queen’s service.

_She’s not an innocent flight controller, she’s high-level security!_

_Who’s pretending to be a flight controller. With forged identification._

_In a government building which has historically welcomed her presence and should continue to do so._

_She’s not supposed to be here, either._

_Run afoul of the new boss, have we now, Sabé?_

Somehow, he’d accidentally infiltrated a secure facility at the same time another person was executing a similar, unrelated infiltration.

_Dammit, this is the third time that's happened!_

Sabé led Karrde through a small side entrance into the next room where he was expected to work, and the transition was... startling.

One moment, it was all soothing yellow tones in a mix of splendorous handcrafted architecture illuminated entirely by the abundant sunlight.

The next moment, he was in a chamber so huge he didn’t understand how it could possibly fit in the building. Or on the planet.

Metal catwalks connected semicircles of enormous containment tubes running down into an abyss channeling pillars of white-violet plasma, going so far down he couldn’t see bottom, as the walls were dotted with thousands of smaller indicator lights. Warm air slowly rose up out of the abyss.

_This planet doesn’t have any major industrial centers. The climate doesn’t demand advanced equipment to maintain human habitation. Even the buildings are designed to rely on natural light and remain at a comfortable temperature unaided. What are they using this much power for?_ Karrde wondered as he tried not to look over the edge.

There were no handrails. This place went down at least a few hundred meters, possibly more, he didn’t want to look, _where were the handrails_? Now there’s a repair he would have to put into the system before he left: add some handrails. Allocate the funds, order the parts, he could get this done, or at least move it far enough along that it would cost more credits to stop than to finish.

_One of the workers is going to die if I don’t take care of this,_ he thought as he tapped a short note into his datapad. _I bet people have already died, but no one can figure out how. ‘Hey, you seen Daev?’ ‘Nope, haven’t seen him since him since yesterday.’ ‘Huh. Weird.’ Then they go back to eating lunch as Daev’s corpse rots at the bottom of the shaft. How would anyone ever find the body?_

_Focus, FOCUS. I’ve got to find a way to ditch Sabé._

Sabé must suspect he was an imposter, that’s why she brought him here. He was dead. He was so dead. He had no idea how to diagnose any repairs on this place and keep up his cover.

_ Do NOT underestimate her,_ he warned himself.

Karrde shivered briefly as his footsteps echoed around him. Heights descending down into an endless pit was something that he never wanted to experience again.

_Well, she hasn’t tossed me over the edge. Yet._

_I bet they sacrifice people by throwing them down there._

The slightly dimwitted expression he’d been maintaining held as the two walked down the central catwalk. He had not come here unarmed, but against someone with Sabé’s skills, he very much wanted to avoid a fight.

Supplying whatever expression suited the situation best was something Karrde had become quite skilled at. Changing from one’s natural reaction to a more useful one was an easier skill to learn than keeping a perfectly straight face at all times, and far more versatile. Giving people the response he wanted them to see rather than no response at all made them easier to mislead.

* * *

This whole situation was so confusing. Darrek was tripping all kinds of alarms in Sabé’s head, but jamming up others. For one thing, there was the way he positioned himself. This ‘spy’ was showing absolutely no signs of discomfort around her even as he walked slightly in front and to her left, a spot in which she could draw her blaster and kill him. His head was even turned slightly away from her, offering a perfect shot at his back.

Was he an incompetent infiltrator unaware of how dangerous she was? Was he a _very_ competent infiltrator deliberately messing with her? Was he really just some dimwitted repairman?

Sabé was fully aware of how useful it was to make people underestimate you, and was not going to fall for her own tricks.

Some of the things he said were clearly true, some of them were false. The ones that were true made her hope she didn’t have to kill him.

Smiling, she led him through the complex, across the massive deep-pit generator. What was important right now was to get Darrek into an isolated area with so much high-energy machinery around that no one would be able to hear them or pick them up on normal scanners through the intense electromagnetic fields and plasma generators.

“You ever toss anything down there?” Darrek asked as he stared in awe down into the power generator complex, its deep pit extending into the crust of Naboo.

“No,” Sabé convincingly lied. No one could ever know what she’d done.

That carefully controlled stoicism she used was perfect for either remaining unnoticed, or when someone did notice her, offering so little feedback they had no idea what to do. When the situation didn’t require formality, it was also useful for intimidation, and cutting the small talk with Darrek was making him sweat a little.

* * *

_And now what the hell are all THESE for?_ Karrde wondered in increasing bewilderment as Sabé led him through a series of red force field generators after patiently waiting for them to turn off and let them through. Who knew what would happen if you touched them? Karrde didn’t, and he didn’t want to find out.

“Uh, where’s that terminal?” he asked, looking around what appeared to be a round room with no controls of any kind, at the center of which was a giant pit.

This left no doubt anymore. She’d been leading him here to kill him and dispose of the body without anyone noticing. Giant pit, lots of high-energy equipment to conceal a blaster shot from nearby sensors.

Carefully peeking over the side as an excuse to turn away from his escort, Karrde activated the personal energy shield hidden in his belt when he heard Sabé’s blaster being pulled from its holster, followed by the high-pitched whine of it charging up.

Times like this were why he ignored people when they said he was paranoid.

“It was back at the entrance, on the left,” Sabé said as she kept her blaster trained on Karrde. “Now, you’re going to tell me who you are, and what you were doing in the palace.”

* * *

“I, uh, don’t understand,” Darrek said, aghast when he saw her blaster as he kept his arms raised and nervously stepped to his left, minding the pit in the floor.

“We walked right past the main computer terminal, you didn’t even look at it. You’re not a technician.”

“I was following _your_ lead, figured you knew where you were going!” he said, clinging to his toolkit while backing away, holding it in front of himself as though to shield himself. “Please don’t kill me!”

“I am not going to kill you,” Sabé said stoically, not letting her doubt as to whether she was taking this too far creep into her face and voice. Darrek kept backing away until he was cowering against the wall, and Sabé started feeling a little ashamed of herself upon seeing that he was _crying_.

“Please don’t, please don’t, I’ll give you anything,” he said, head shaking desperately, voice ascending in pitch. “I, uh, I don’t have much but I’ll give you my money if you let me go, PLEASE, I have a new kid waiting for me at home!”

Then she shot at him. Only a stun bolt to knock him out until she could figure out if he was who he said he was. If he was legit, there was no problem, it wasn’t as if she would need to explain her actions to anyone. That was the plan.

The stun bolt dissipated against an energy shield before reaching his chest, green sparks crackling in the air, and in an instant, his expression, his posture, the way he carried his equipment, it all changed.

“Damn. No fooling you, is there, Sabé?” the intruder quipped, calmly and without the drawl. A slot opened in the side of his toolkit and the barrel of a blaster emerged.

The hidden blaster spewed stun bolts with mediocre accuracy, the ones that landed fizzling out in magenta flickers against Sabé’s own personal energy shield. Knowing that neither of their shields could protect them forever, she returned fire, the two combatants running clockwise around the hole in the center of the chamber. Being so confident she could win the little shootout, Sabé realized too late that the spy wasn’t actually intending to hit her, only get her out of his escape route.

The force fields had deactivated as part of their cycle, and her target was making a break for it.

* * *

Karrde neared the final force field before the red glow formed in front of him and he skidded to a halt on the polished floors, and looked back to see Sabé stuck three sections behind him.

The glare he was receiving was so intense it would probably burn him to dust if these force fields weren’t protecting him. One field probably wouldn’t have been enough.

The fields would deactivate beginning with his end, so he’d get a healthy head start, but she was in at least as good shape as him, she knew the layout of this building better, she _would_ catch him before long.

Meeting the handmaiden’s scowl with his most devilish smuggler’s grin, Karrde set his toolkit down on the floor and opened it such that Sabé’s view of his hands would be blocked by the top case. Stowing the data drive he’d come for in his pocket, Karrde began tapping random spots on the case to make it look like he was doing something, closed it, and carefully pushed it as far from him as the confined space would allow, near the edge of the inner field. Standing back up, Karrde observed Sabé’s face switch from confusion to erroneous realization, and gave a mocking little wave as he prepared to run.

* * *

_He has a bomb,_ Sabé thought as the spy, presumably an imperial, flicked away his phony colo claw’s tears and brushed back his stupid hair. Focusing on the toolkit, Sabé wondered what the exact payload of a bomb that size could be. It couldn’t be powerful enough to kill the spy, too, he came here for something and intended to make it out, but she’d trapped herself in this corridor.

If that explosion damaged the generators, it could have ramifications for the entire city.

The ion pulse drew power from the palace generators, was he an imperial saboteur trying to cripple the city’s defenses?

Sabé possessed two ion grenades hidden in her sleeves. One of them should be enough to disable the bomb... or accidentally trigger it...

The spy was keeping his distance from it, did it have a proximity sensor trigger to prevent it from being disarmed?

The next time the shields cycled there would be a gap between the gates opening and closing during which she could throw a pulse grenade at the bomb, and in the worst case, the energy shield should absorb some of the blast.

A moment later, the shields deactivated, the spy ran ahead towards the exit while Sabé continuing to take shots at him, but that shield of his held together until out of effective range.

Sabé got into position, waiting for the shields to turn back on and keeping her distance to avoid triggering a detonation. Twitching fingers held the pulse grenade as Sabé got ready to throw. The first gate activated, then the emitters of the second began to move, the grenade flew at its target, the shield closed behind it, and the metal ellipsoid burst in a flash of electric arcs, the pulse it emitted causing the surrounding shields to flicker.

The bomb didn’t detonate, and Sabé breathed a sigh of relief, but she remained trapped behind three force fields while that spy gained more distance. When the next cycle began, Sabé ignored her safety concerns and grabbed the bomb to make sure it was disabled, recall her bomb defusal training and preparing to throw it back behind the other force fields if it couldn’t be disarmed.

When she opened it up, a bunch of random tools fell out. That hidden blaster was still affixed to it, but there was no control for a bomb. It was just a toolkit.

“Ooooooohhhh you SNEAKY _BASTARD_!” Sabé roared as she narrowly avoided being bisected by the closing gate, chucked the toolkit down into the abyss, and charged out of the generator room.

* * *

_KRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFFKRIFF -_

Karrde internally swore with each frantic step as he hurried through the halls and down the stairs towards one of the exits, fueled by adrenaline, frequently looking upwards to check if Sabé was in pursuit or was still stuck in the generator room. Despite the trembling of his hands, he grasped at his personal communicator.

Now that his cover was blown, it was time to bring in the heavy blasters, so Karrde signaled for help, opening a communication channel and providing a tracker for his location. He should’ve done this the moment he suspected he could be in trouble.

Sabé’s training may have prepared her for assassins and combat droids and senate assemblies, but no one was ever fully prepared for a fight against Vrask.

* * *

Sabé stormed through the halls as she tried to make up the distance she’s foolishly lost because thanks to that trick. Fortunately, she knew a shortcut back around the generator.

He must be going to the small public landing platforms outside the hangar. Vehicles came and went constantly from there, and everywhere else around the palace watched for incoming airspeeders. The fastest and least noticeable way there was a hidden exit in the side of the building, a small doorway for maintenance staff.

As she charged through the narrow stone corridor, opened the door, and ran across the threshold, a thick, scaly arm clotheslined her back inside.

Sabé instinctively rolled to the side, avoiding getting stomped on by a clawed foot. Once she was back on her feet, fists raised for a fight, Sabé found herself confronting the biggest Trandoshan she’d ever seen. Dark green scales, bright green eyes, wearing a dark grey shirt and trousers with a burgundy kama and matching vest, exposing clawed feet and muscular arms.

The reptile closed the exit and aimed at her with a pistol, rapidly letting off several stun bolts at Sabé as the handmaiden continued running at her opponent. As the shield finally burned out, an uppercut to the wrist caused the bolt to fire at an upwards angle into the ceiling. She followed it up with a swift kick to the blaster’s barrel, enough force to crumple the holdout blaster, and the Trandoshan snarled angrily at the disabled weapon.

Sabé whipped out her own stun pistol and got off one ineffective shot to the torso before it was smacked out of her hand, bounced off the wall of the narrow corridor, and crushed underfoot as Sabé began backpedaling. She couldn’t help noticing that a stone supporting arch passed over her head with plenty of clearance while the Trandoshan stooped down to get under it.

This was manageable. She’s fought plenty of opponents who were far larger than herself. They always relied on brute strength, and always underestimated her in turn, being unprepared for the elite martial arts training she’d received.

Her enemy lunged forward with the right hand, and Sabé stepped to her left, darting past the attack, got a grip on the arm with two hands, and prepared to hook her right leg around the Trandoshan’s right leg to trip her enemy.

The Trandoshan’s right leg raised and kicked her in the stomach, knocking her on her back again. Overcoming the pain, Sabé skillfully leapt back to her feet.

Steadying herself and balling her fists, Sabé saw the Trandoshan had taken an Echani defensive stance, somewhat modified to accommodate the species’ longer forearms and use of claws rather than a fist.

_So much for ‘dumb muscle’_, Sabé thought as she whipped out a shock baton and struck at her enemy’s left arm. The Trandoshan grabbed it and remained totally unaffected by the electricity while crushing it with a grip strength Sabé didn’t want to contemplate.

Unexpectedly, the Trandoshan’s guard lowered, and Sabé took the opportunity to furiously deliver a series of rapid punches to the abdomen. They didn’t even get a reaction, except, possibly, a measure of pity as both combatants realized how unfair this situation was.

_Well, kraytspit._

* * *

The data drive was secured in the two-person airspeeder, now all that was left was for Vrask to knock out the handmaiden and they could get out of here.

_It’s a shame I didn’t meet her under different circumstances._

Sabé was dangerous to him in that situation, but they had the same goal, or would if he could communicate that to her in a scenario that wouldn’t get him arrested by Nabooian law enforcement.

_All that handmaiden training, thorough knowledge and absolute loyalty towards Amidala, she would’ve been a perfect accomplice. I bet she’s still in contact with her fellow handmaidens. Probably knows a lot of secrets about government buildings, including some used by Emperor Palpatine. She might even already know about Leia and WHAT AM I DOING?_ he thought as he realized he’d been needlessly antagonizing a potentially invaluable ally, double checked to make sure the data was safe, and power-walked around the surrounding commuters back into the generator building’s maintenance entrance.

* * *

“Just walk away, human. I rather not hurt you any more than I have to,” the Trandoshan warned. “Should’ve let me stun you, would’ve been easier.”

Clutching her left arm with its cracked ulna, standing on a sprained ankle, uniform torn in several spots by claw marks, Sabé was seriously considering retreating. Calling for help would end with her facing Panaka for her trespass, but if it meant stopping these people, it may be worth it. The only problem was whether she could outrun her opponent on her injured ankle, especially since the square-cube law seemed to mean nothing to this monster. Backing away from the completely implacable Trandoshan, she noticed her opponent wasn’t pursuing her. Then, to her surprise, that first spy showed up, looking... _concerned_ for her?

“Stop stop stop! She’s one of the _good guys_,” the trespasser said in a tone Sabé construed as vaguely mocking, his accomplice obeying and stepping back to let him speak to her, adopting a more polite demeanor. “I know we haven’t met under the best of circumstances, but I want to make it clear that I’m not your enemy.”

Sabé glared at him, only breaking eye contact to glance around, see if there was something in this corridor within arm’s reach that she could throw and crack his skull open.

There was not.

“I am listening,” Sabé growled.

“I’m not allied with the Empire, if that’s what you assumed. I’ve been employed to ensure the safety of your queen’s legacy,” he said, successfully piquing Sabé's interest. “I won’t submit myself to an interrogation, but I want to make you an offer. Tomorrow, I’ll meet you at midday in the park near Queen Yram’s Needle, if you’re interested in learning more.”

With that vague offer finished, the unknown infiltrator turned and made his exit, the Trandoshan following.

As they left, the Trandoshan stopped to look at Sabé, and said in a disconcertingly friendly tone, “Keep in touch, you won’t regret it. Take care, now!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could’ve come up with some clever explanation of what the red force fields do, but I couldn’t. Supposedly, they’re a security system, but... they’re protecting a dead end containing nothing but a giant pit, in a facility you can otherwise just walk into. And they turn themselves off intermittently. I’ve also read that they’re a safety measure to contain energy discharges, which also doesn’t make much sense for all the same reasons. What, were they put there to keep Maul from climbing back out? I DON’T UNDERSTAND THEM.


	2. Rational Self-Interest

The following day was a cloudy one, the spire of Queen Yram towering in the middle of a stone courtyard, edges dotted with trees and bordered on one side by a canal. This spire wasn’t the most popular attraction in Theed, but the area attracted enough visitors, people gazing at the obelisk or simply passing through, that no one would think it odd for anyone to meet up here and talk.

Karrde was dressed in an outfit typical of Naboo, particular articles of clothing appearing neither ugly nor fashionable. The boots, pants, and undershirt were all a shade of tan similar to much of the architecture in Theed, as if he intended to camouflage himself, while the thigh-length robe he wore over it was only a few shades darker, appearing neither contrasting enough with the rest of the outfit to be eye-catching, nor odd for appearing completely uniform in color. His normally tousled black hair was now brushed back and tidied up. It didn’t look good though, only 'fine'. His image was perfectly fine.

Sitting alone near the edge of the water, Karrde breathed in the fresh air and subtle aromas of this tranquil world. The flow of the canal was audible behind him, so much more water here than on Myrkr, though he found both planets similarly appealing for their abundant flora.

Naboo had seemed so idyllic upon landing, and everything Karrde had learned of it beforehand encouraged this image. Which had served to make the smuggler suspicious of the culture here.

_The cleaner the floors, the bloodier the laundry._

Except this time his doubts proved unfounded, no matter how deep he dug into this society’s workings. This peaceful Mid Rim planet continued to defy his expectations.

Everything was as it appeared. There was no destitute population. Everyone had enough food to eat. Health care was inexpensive at worst, and otherwise free.

Then what were the worst things the locals had to say about their culture, the things that made them disappointed in their civilization? During the early settlement period several centuries ago, the human population acted superior to the native warrior Gungans, creating a cultural divide that lasted until recently.

That was it.

The resulting conflict hadn’t even been especially extreme, because the Naboo were pacifists. Their ancestors acted condescending, and now the whole planet felt simply terrible about it.

Karrde had been to worlds where different species or subplanetary governments had turned thermonuclear weapons on each other while maintaining, to this day, that it was the not only a strategic necessity, but morally correct.

And what besides that bit of cultural posturing? The people of Naboo felt disconcerted by the presence of an ion pulse in their capital. Just the one ion pulse. A stationary defensive weapon that was designed to defeat invading armies with minimal casualties by targeting equipment rather than sapient beings. That was too much for some of them and had been a topic of intense debate a decade ago. Intense, but very civil debate because they were all such peaceful people.

At first, Karrde wondered what was wrong with Naboo. Thinking a bit harder, he began wondering what was wrong with everybody else. The only real complaint he had about their society, based on what he’d seen, was some rather lax safety regulations, and they weren’t anywhere near the worst he’d encountered. Not even the worst twenty.

_Maybe all their negative emotions got packed into Palpatine, and that’s why he’s the way he is,_ Karrde mused as he waited for his contact. He was pretty sure the Force didn’t work that way, but what did he know? All he really understood about the Emperor’s use of the Force was that it existed and was quite powerful, and Karrde's current source of information on Force-related issues wasn’t particularly experienced.

_Maybe Palpatine sucked out all their negative emotions to make himself stronger. Is that something he can do? It might be._

Sabé had accepted the verbal invitation and arrived at noon exactly, impeccably dressed in black pants with matching boots and a dazzling navy blue jacket, to the point the contrast between the two of them as they sat across from each other would make them more noticeable than if either was alone.

It was crucial to make a better impression this time, not that one could do any worse than yesterday, and Karrde had been rethinking his approach. Taking this as an opportunity to up his game. The sly looks and comments needed to stop. He’d run into this problem with Tano. When dealing with minor criminals, other smugglers, mercenaries, swoop gangs, acting so calm and seemingly omniscient while making clever remarks served him well, demonstrating his skill and asserting control over the negotiations. That wasn’t going to get him much further in the galaxy than his current station. With people like Sabé, people who cared about more than credits and weren’t so easily intimidated by anyone with a gram of intelligence, he was irritating and smug.

_Be serious, be direct_, he told himself as he took a deep breath and hardened his expression.

* * *

The unknown infiltrator was seated at one of the park tables close the edge of the canal, fingers interlaced as he sat with perfect posture. His back was to the river, the only thing between him and it being a large tree offering shade. Sabé read the positioning easily: having his back to the river made it less likely someone would attack him from behind, with the tree making it harder for a sniper to get a clear shot, and in a pinch he’d have a better chance at escape by jumping into the canal and swimming to the other side than running over flat terrain with minimal cover.

That wouldn’t be enough to get away from her this time, as Sabé walked forward with an overemphasized limp to hide how much the bacta serum injections had done. The three microcameras she’d positioned around the park in the dead of night hadn’t spotted any new threats to her, nor had her counterpart done anything worrisome when he’d arrived half an hour ago.

“Welcome,” he said pleasantly.

Sabé sat down and replied in her cold, even-tempered Amidala voice, “You claimed that we possessed similar interests. I am willing to listen to your explanation,” wanting to get right to the point.

“There’s one piece of information I’d like to know if you’re aware of or not before we begin,” he said, handing over a small bouquet of white flowers to her. Initially unmoved by and misunderstanding of the gesture, Sabé took a moment to recognize the species, and got the message clearly as she snatched them away.

These flowers were called ‘leias’.

“I am fully aware, yes. Who sent you?” demanded Sabé, suspecting that Organa was employing outside assistance for some reason.

“I am not at liberty to discuss the nature of my employer,” he said calmly, almost completely confirming the suspicions in her mind. At this moment, Sabé was equipped with a variety of hidden weapons, including knives, a brand new stun baton she was eager to test out, and a small but powerful two-shot blaster which, she hoped, could burn a hole through a Trandoshan. All she needed was provocation to use them, and the slightest possibility of harming Princess Leia brought her halfway to the breaking point.

“Who are you?” asked Sabé.

“Call me Karrde,” he replied, the phrasing implying to her that it wasn’t his real name, though if it was an alias he used frequently, it would be worth looking into. “First of all, I want to make amends for the circumstances of our first meeting,” he began earnestly, sliding a datapad across the table.

“What is this?” asked Sabé, activating the pad to see a grid of several faces of varying species.

“An apology for the whole palace incident and turning Vrask loose on you: everything I know of several powerful organizations in the galactic slave trade,” Karrde said, as Sabé scrolled through the information on the pad. Outposts, ship registries, supply routes, the identities of high-ranking slavers. “I’m aware of how much Amidala wanted to eradicate slavery, and that she sent you on missions to do so. I may be a criminal, but I’ve never sold sapient beings. If you want to eliminate them, I can help you.”

If that was true, this datapad contained everything Sabé could’ve hoped for... about five years too late.

“It doesn’t matter now. Removing the blight of slavery from the galaxy was intended to be done with Republic support. Attempting to do so under imperial rule would be futile,” Sabé said, and gave a curt, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Please hang on to that information anyway,” Karrde replied. “You never know when it might be useful.”

“What were you doing at the palace?” she said sharply, not completely accepting of this apology.

“My job. Genetic records could’ve been used to link mother and daughter. Now, thanks to me, they can’t.”

“How do you know so much about what I was doing for Padmé?” Sabé asked. “_Why_ do you know so much about what I was doing for Padmé?”

“My job,” Karrde repeated. “Given the situation, I wanted to know everyone connected to Amidala who might have known her secrets, all her handmaidens, her staff, any advisors. Everyone who might reveal information to the Empire.”

“The handmaidens would never betray our queen,” Sabé replied coldly. “Neither would anyone else who served her. Not after everything she’s done for Naboo and its people.”

“That’s what I hoped. That’s what most of my information indicates, but not all of it. You would never betray Amidala, I believe that. I’m not convinced everyone shares your loyalty,” Karrde said, noticeably turning his head to the right while looking in the direction of the palace, its dome just visibly above a line of trees. “Even if they did, are you aware of the inquisitors?”

“I know of them,” Sabé replied vaguely, somewhat surprised to hear someone else mention the Empire’s Force-users.

“Then you know that the Empire has soldiers in its employ who could tear the information from your friends’ minds. Which means you and I have a great deal to discuss,” said Karrde. “We already have that knowledge and can’t forget, so we may as well help each other. People who can’t use the Force need every advantage against those who can.”

“Pity I’m not a Jedi,” said Sabé.

“I think you’d make a good one,” Karrde said earnestly, then he gasped slightly, perked up and added with an excited grin, “You’d be a natural with a light-Sabé-er!”

As usual, Sabé’s face remained impassive due to her impeccable control of her expressions. There were many awful things things she’d seen and heard while maintaining a mask, exposure to destruction and horror, but her composure never broke. Listening to that pun was one of her greatest challenges.

_Dammit, that’s a good one_, she thought as she fought hard not to laugh.

“You should be thankful I'm not. If I were a Jedi, I also would’ve apprehended you easily,” Sabé replied calmly.

“No kidding,” Karrde said, visibly relaxing in his chair. “Jedi and smugglers are natural enemies, though I do miss them. The whole ecosystem’s disrupted without them culling the herd. Though the galactic upheaval of the past year presents certain opportunities, and I believe we could both benefit from it.”

“Hm. I’m not convinced the two of us are as much natural allies as you seem to believe,” said Sabé. “Naboo has never been a haven for smugglers, nor do we take criminal activities such as yours lightly. You smugglers paint yourselves as daring rogues, but people in your line of work are responsible for the spread of spice addiction and horrific contraband weapons throughout the galaxy.”

“My enterprises have been increasingly directed towards selling information lately, and imperial restrictions have made smuggling of more beneficent items profitable. You’re not wrong about what I’ve gotten involved in, though, and I never would’ve approached you under the Republic for those reasons,” Karrde admitted. “But you know well that just because something is legal doesn’t make it good. Under the Empire, the two of us could accomplish a lot of highly illegal good together. I possess a rapidly growing web of contacts and operations spreading throughout the galaxy. You’re the best of a group of elite agents immersed in the politics and operations of the Galactic Emperor’s homeworld, and I bet you have some contacts of your own from your time in the Outer Rim. I’ve also been supplying enemies of the Empire for several months. We have similar goals and a lot to offer each other. Consider this a freebie, a showcase of what I can do for you. You need supplies or specialists, anything I can feasibly wrangle in short order, or for me to help personally, consider it yours.”

It was a very widely encompassing offer, one Sabé found tempting, but she didn’t want help from someone like this.

“You’re only out to help yourself,” Sabé said critically. “When I worked for Padmé in the Senate, or infiltrating slavers in the Outer Rim, there were so many people dedicated to wringing as much profit as they could out of each other.”

“Amidala was able to rally senators together to aid Bromlarch in the wake of its destroyed aqueduct system not out of altruism from all those in favor, but because her plan benefitted their worlds as well,” Karrde countered. “I want things, you want things, let’s _get_ things, together.”

“Padmé encouraged people to come together to help each other. _You_ encourage people in order to extort them for all they’re worth,” Sabé retorted. Hearing justifications like that, here, was all the more grating. “I believe I’d be better off without your assistance.”

Karrde’s pleasant demeanor completely vanished, and Sabé realized she’d actually found a way to offend him. Something she’d remember for later.

“You think I’m some kind of swindler?” he asked through clenched teeth, forehead scrunching up with anger. “You understand the reason I came here, correct? I traveled all this way, personally put myself in danger when infiltrating the palace, to confirm that there was not a single scrap of information anywhere in the Theed archives which could connect certain acquaintances of yours. I have gone above and beyond more than once to do my job, in this case, in others, and all ‘good’ people like you do is _moan_ and _complain_ about the purity of my motives. I have people I need to pay. Ships and facilities I need to keep maintained. My services do not normally come cheap, but when I make an agreement, I follow through on my end. Whatever else you may be thinking of me, you can be certain of that.”

“The Empire would undoubtedly pay you more. The difference between my comrades and you is we work for a better galaxy. You work for credits, nothing more,” Sabé replied. “People like that have tormented my home before, and nearly killed everyone I care about. People like that allowed the Empire to come to power.”

Karrde leaned closer to her and murmured, “If I’m so horrible, why have I not told them about Leia?”

Sabé wasn’t sure what she believed his motivations to be, but she wasn’t one to underestimate how far a dedicated person could plan ahead.

“I’m not entirely certain, and I suspect it would be better for me to kill you for what you know rather than wait to obtain that certainty,” Sabé said, contemplating how she would do it as efficiently as possible, considering how to do so without anyone immediately noticing. “Although I suspect if anything happens to you today, tomorrow Imperial Intelligence will get a sudden influx of information pertaining to Padmé’s legacy?”

To her surprise, Karrde sternly replied, tone once again calm, “Absolutely not. If that happened, it would mean I not only failed to do my job, but my final act was to intentionally betray a paying client. That is not acceptable to me, Sabé. However, if I do turn up dead, Vrask _will_ know it was you, and she _will_ hunt down and presumably eat you,” Karrde warned, and Sabé's instinctive shudder prevented her from telling herself that Trandoshan didn't frighten her a little. 

“That doesn’t keep you from being a liability if the Empire catches you, especially if I accept your offer to help me now,” Sabé said, think about his response to her threat. In either case, killing him was either counterproductive or unnecessary for the moment. If Karrde was telling the truth, he was far enough above regular fringe scum to be helpful. If he was a liar, he was quite a convincing one, which had its own uses to her. “I’ll consider it.”

“I look forward to your decision,” he said warmly, getting up to leave and setting a communicator down on the table. “If you change your mind, contact me whenever you like.”

* * *

At the outskirts of Theed lay an apartment complex which included one smaller domicile, its only entrance being a wall tucked between the complex and its neighbor which could be pushed back for entry. The apartment was slender, composed of two levels, with the upper floor mostly containing several bunk beds to house an endangered queen and her handmaidens. It also contained enough supplies to last several weeks in hiding, was shielded from sensors, soundproofed, and all plans of the building obscured its existence through an underestimation of the surrounding units’ dimensions.

There were many such havens across Naboo Sabé had access to, though this was one of the few which she knew of and Moff Panaka did not.

Sabé managed to gather Dormé, Eirtaé, and Moteé, the only surviving handmaidens of Queen Amidala who were available. Cordé, Versé, Duja, Teckla, they were all gone. The remainder were all scattered around the planet and galaxy, as was Tonra. Some on missions, some simply living their own lives, and Sabé wasn’t inclined to tear them away in either case for her personal act of defiance.

None of her present company objected when she explained she wanted to make a show of opposition on Empire Day.

“The purpose of the upcoming holiday is to act as a propaganda tool,” Sabé began. “To make the Empire appealing to citizens. The Empire proclaims itself to be using military force to offer security and peace in the wake of the devastation created by the Clone Wars. How do we subvert that image?”

“One way to do that would be to create a situation where the military fails to protect the people,” said Eirtaé. “But we don’t want to frighten our citizens, or get them hurt.”

“We can’t accomplish anything substantial without some consequence,” said Sabé.

“Drawing innocent people into a fight against the Empire isn't what Padmé would’ve wanted,” said Eirtaé.

“I’m aware of that,” she replied outwardly without so much as a twitch at the mention of Padmé. “I don’t want some ineffectual display. I want to do significant damage, even if it’s only in measures of credits.”

“An event of this scale will involve cooperative security from both the RNSF and the imperial army,” said Moteé. “Derailing it without evidence will be an impressive feat.”

“I was thinking we could use the ion pulse,” said Sabé. “While the military parade is moving around the palace plaza , activate the pulse and disable all the electronics in the walkers and TX-130 fighter tanks. Cause countless credits in damages and derail the entire celebration.”

“And who would take the blame for that?” asked Dormé. “The Empire would use that as reason to punish the entire planet in some way, all because of us!”

“We’re not going to _attack_ the Empire,” Sabé said. “We’re going to humiliate it. Make everyone who works for it appear inept, and its war machine ridiculous. _We _are not going to activate the ion pulse. _They_ are. Willingly, they will demolish their own mechanized infantry, ruin their own display of might, and with no evidence otherwise.”

“How will we make that happen?” asked Eirtaé.

“That’s what I brought you here to help me figure out,” Sabé said as she activated a holoprojector displaying a map of the city and the security arrangements she knew of from the listening device she’d planted.

The next few hours constituted a brainstorming session among the handmaidens, how to get into the control room to activate the pulse. It felt good to be with her old friends, even though they were discussing these kinds of matters.

“Dormé, there’s another task I want you for, though it’s not exactly as relevant as subverting the ion pulse, I believe it would be beneficial,” said Sabé.

“What does it entail?” the other handmaiden asked.

“Being exceptionally petty and spiteful,” replied Sabé, and Dormé grinned. “I’ll tell you more once I’m certain the other contact I need is available. Moteé, how’s it coming with computer security?”

“Not everyone in the moff’s employ has easily-deducible passwords,” said Moteé, who had been trained to act as the cadre’s primary slicer since Cordé’s death and inherited her equipment related to such matters. “There are a few pieces of questionably-legal devices Cordé left connected to the palace’s security system and nobody ever found them. I’ll let you know when I’ve uncovered exactly how many there are and what they can do.”

“Questionably-legal?” asked Sabé. Even she wasn’t aware Cordé had done anything like this independently.

“You can question how legal they are,” Moteé said weakly. “The answer to the questions is ‘probably not’.”

With that, Sabé let her companion get to work while she reviewed the palace floor plans and plotted out the most efficient routes into and out of the security control room where the ion pulse control was placed. Secret passages ran throughout the palace, some connecting to exits, some joining different sections internally.

“Sabé... have you learned anything about how Padmé died?” Eirtaé asked unexpectedly, and Dormé and Moteé stopped what they were working on and perked up expectantly to see the response while chills ran up Sabé’s back. “You were so determined when you left, and it’s been almost a year. Did you find anything new?”

Now came one of the toughest choices she’d dealt with, one she’d been putting off: whether to tell her fellow handmaidens about Princess Leia Organa. Of course she wanted to, but the more people who knew, the more Leia was in danger of being discovered by the Emperor. Being the daughter of a powerful Jedi was enough to make her a target on its own, and the ramifications of her being Padmé’s daughter in the care of political opponents of Palpatine made it even worse.

She knew, Ahsoka Tano knew, Barriss Offee knew, Karrde knew as well. Did Vrask or any other criminals know? Perhaps. How many more? How long could the lie be maintained?

Under any conventional torture Sabé knew her companions were too strong to break, she had faith in them more than anything, but she also knew of the inquisitors and was afraid of what they could do to her friends’ minds.

“Nothing at all,” she lied, hanging her head in a disappointment. Her dear friends’ despaired reaction was at her apparent failure. Sabé’s despaired reaction was at her own decision.

_If they knew their knowing posed such a risk, they would prefer not to know,_ Sabé told herself to try and rationalize things.

It didn’t help.

* * *

In the early morning the next day, Sabé headed out from the safehouse, checking her chrono to be sure she had time to get back before the other handmaidens returned from the hotels or inns they were staying at as they supposedly prepared to celebrate Empire Day. At Sabé’s request, they were using aliases, because it wouldn’t be difficult for Panaka to check the names of every visitor to city and learn which of them were here, and if their sabotage was successful, he would immediately deduce they were probably responsible.

A blanket of mist was covering Theed that morning, visibility only about ten meters in any direction. Matching the mood and visibility the weather was offering, Sabé was wearing a pale grey tunic with dark grey trousers and boots, all under a steel blue cloak that blended in well with the mist and the limited light.

This early in the morning, hardly anyone was out, though she kept alert to the sounds of approaching or rapid footsteps all around her as she made her way to the Naboo Museum of Cultural History.

This was the sixth time she’d walked the halls since she’d returned to her homeworld, ignoring all the displays of past queens to find the most recent. At this time of day, and given the dour mood that hung over the city, no one else should be there.

Except for today.

The smuggler was reading one of the displays in front of a row of mannequins dressed in iconic items of Queen Amidala’s wardrobe. When he noticed Sabé’s aggressive approach, he turned to face her, and the two looked up and down each other as they realized that aside from slightly different color shades and cuts of their tunics, they were wearing basically the same outfit, very likely for the same reasons of remaining inconspicuous and unremarkable.

“Well, one of us is gonna have to go home and change,” Karrde said in a wry tone.

“How did you know I would be here?” Sabé asked, the words catching in her throat as her tone indecisively faltered between the stoic Amidala decoy and letting her anger seep in.

“I didn’t. The listening devices in your safehouse didn’t overhear anything about your intention to come here,” he said, and in response, Sabé activated a switch on one of her rings which produced a poison-laced needle stick up out of her fist, ready to jam into his neck. He leaned forward and studied the hidden weapon inquisitively. “Relax, I’m just kidding (possibly). Also, if that needle’s laced with poison, I’ve built up a resistance to the common ones all the way up to iocaine, though that is one handy concealed weapon. Your own design, I take it?”

“Compliments will get you nowhere,” Sabé replied, triggering the retraction of the poison needle. Then she pulled out a knife and held it at throat-level. “Are you immune to being stabbed through the neck as well, or only the poisons?”

At that, Karrde wisely leaned back away from her, though as she pointed the knife at him he maintained an odd purse-lipped smirk. “I may have built up a bit of a resistance thanks to a few schemes gone wrong... Really, Sabé, I didn’t come here to bother you. I was here before you were, remember?”

“If you didn’t come for me, why _are_ you here?”

Karrde looked away from her and towards the displays. “I wanted to see what the big deal was.”

“The ‘big deal’?” Sabé asked as she sheathed her blade.

“With Amidala. The tragic queen/senator everyone on this planet seems to be in love with... Some of you more than others. I wanted to know more about her than what people read in Coruscant tabloids,” Karrde said, calmly stepping away from Sabé in spite of her threat and returning to the display he’d been reading, solemnly adding, “She really was remarkable, wasn’t she? I’m sorry for your loss. Whole galaxy’s a lot worse off without her.”

“You cannot possibly imagine what her death meant to Naboo, or to me,” Sabé said as she walked out of the exhibit and onto the museum’s terrace at the edge of Theed’s waterfall.

In the face of that anguished declaration, Karrde didn’t so much as blink, and followed behind.

“That’s right, Sabé. You and Naberrie invented love,” he said, slowly walking after her. “Then the universe invented death specifically to torment you. No one else has lost anyone before, ever. This is a new occurrence. All for you. What would anyone else know? Don’t you feel special?”

The sarcasm, while infuriating... wasn’t unwarranted when phrased like that, and Sabé sighed as she gathered her thoughts. Something she’d noticed in the wake of the critique was how much Karrde was trying to resist sulking along with her.

“She was my queen. My best friend. My love. My closest family. My purpose in life. _Everything_ to me. I was supposed to protect her, but I failed, and she’s gone,” Sabé said as she forlornly gazed over the waterfalls of Theed.

“Lately, for a few different reasons, I’ve been learning more about the Force. Jedi stuff. Something they all believe is that, even when someone dies, it isn’t really the end. They return to the Force, where the power of life originates, and in turn created by life,” Karrde said as he stared at the displays with her. With a harder tone, he went on, “I can’t deny the existence of the Force, but I like to focus on something a bit more tangible. This reality, everything as it is now, it would never exist without Naberrie. Regardless of how much time passes, her influence, like that of everyone who’s ever lived, it gets more powerful, more noticeable, because all those inconsequential perturbations from her presence spread out, and this universe becomes more and more distinct from what could’ve possibly existed without her. Naberrie is here, not just in the Force, but in the galaxy she was a part of and helped create. The Emperor, no matter how he aggregates power, no matter how he tries to twist the galaxy to his own ends, can never destroy what she’s accomplished. Nothing can, because anything that tries causes reality to revolve around her even more.”

“Some reality,” she scoffed, staring at the imperial banners decorating Theed in preparation for the first celebration of Empire Day. “It’s almost the anniversary. Another week. I thought I’d finished mourning while I was offworld. Now that I’m here, now of all times, it hurts just as much as it did on that day. The Empire took its first breaths, and three days later, Padmé’s body was laid to rest. I can’t understand how either event could’ve happened. Everything we did, everything we wanted to do, choked off to make way for the Empire. And everyone is going to be _celebrating_.”

“What’s even going to happen at the celebration?” he asked, slightly disappointed his attempt at encouragement failed. “Forgive my ignorance, it’s my first Empire Day.”

“Mostly people eating overpriced food while watching fireworks and listening to speeches about how much better everyone’s lives are now that they have no representation in the government, amidst a parade of military vehicles marching down the thoroughfare with absolutely no sense of irony,” Sabé scoffed.

“Fun times. What are you and your fellow handmaidens going to do about it?” he asked, correctly suspecting that Sabé must be up to something, and adding a playful “I can help you.”

“Why would someone like you care?” said Sabé. “You’ve been skulking around the city since we met. Didn’t you already get what you wanted from the palace? Why haven’t you left the planet?”

“Obviously, I’m still hoping you’ll accept my offer,” he said. “We both need all the help we can get in times like these.”

“So you keep saying. You’ll find I’m capable of surviving on my own,” said Sabé. “I’ve been in life-threatening situations since I became a handmaiden, many of them riskier than this.”

“Since you were fourteen, right? That’s not the reassurance you think it is,” Karrde replied with a slight shake of the head. “I’m of the opinion that kids should be at least sixteen years old before they’re put in situations where they might get shot.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” retorted Sabé.

“Hm. One professional to another, what gave me away back in the palace?” Karrde asked, though a moment of stern silence from Sabé implied she had no intention of giving him any tips which could be used to evade her again. “I’d be happy to return the advice, you know.”

Sabé grudgingly sighed. “I’d sliced into the palace’s terminals. No one was supposed to be there that day, I saw the scheduled work orders and specifically chose that time in order to not be disturbed. The one you had must’ve been created that day, and maintenance was too backlogged for anyone have been dispatched so quickly. Though I wasn’t completely certain until we were in the generator room, and your lack of training in our facilities became apparent. Well? How did you know who I was?”

“Your ident card was good, but when you’ve used as many forgeries as I have, you notice the imperfections. Wrong alignment direction of the polymer graining when the card was manufactured, text kerning a fraction of a millimeter off. Good enough to get past scans, not good enough for a trained eye. Your excuse about needing maintenance work without an order confused me, and I realized you were lying and suspected I didn’t belong, but struggled to think of a way to back out without looking more suspicious, so I kept waiting for an opening to get away from you,” said Karrde. “Your exact identity became apparent when you stared forlornly at the stained-glass Amidala with deep longing in your eyes.”

“The uncouth affectations you put on were also a bit overdone,” Sabé said, deflecting the jab about her slip.

“Wait, what affectations was I putting on?” Karrde said as he indelicately scratched behind his ear.

“You also became incredibly undignified,” she continued, recalling his tears of fake terror.

“Good thing I don’t have dignity, then. You, on the other hand, certainly exceeded expectations of conduct,” Karrde remarked, before realizing he may have accidentally insulted Sabé’s pride. “I mean-”

“No need for concern. I’m used to being underestimated by loutish fools,” Sabé said, satisfied at seeing him squirm, just a little bit.

“How unfortunate for you,” Karrde said, returning a faux-polite smile. “I’m used to being looked down upon by pompous snobs.”

“Pompous? I endured Captain Panaka’s handmaiden training, I’m entitled to be as pompous as I please. You should give it a try yourself. Survive, and we could start calling you Karrd_é_,” Sabé suggested sarcastically.

“I would never be so presumptuous as to count myself as part of your group, though I do rather like the ring to that,” Karrde said, thoughtfully tapping the side of his chin with one finger. “You certainly chose a good name to replace your old one; I was a bit hasty with mine. If I turned out to be good at your job, maybe you’d be proficient at mine. Ever think about becoming a career criminal? A smuggler?”

“Never.”

“Knowledge broker?”

“No.”

“Pirate queen!”

“I’ve fought pirates, I have no interest in being one.”

“Come on, you’d look amazing in a longcoat,” he said, casually leaning against the bannister, and Sabé didn’t like the direction the conversation was moving towards.

“I’m not so easily charmed,” said Sabé.

“What? Eugh, _not_ what I was getting at,” he clarified, backing up a step.

“That’s- What do you mean, ‘Eugh’?”

“Though I’m sure it’s not a situation you often encounter, don’t be so offended by the idea of someone not being interested. You’re not my type, Sabé.”

Now that the topic had been raised, Sabé was somewhat curious, “What _is_ your type?”

Karrde opened his mouth to reply, but said nothing, his eyes drifted away from her, then his mouth closed as he thought for a moment and his expression became increasingly uncertain. “I’ll have to get back to you on that,” he said eventually as he took a step away from the balcony. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you be-”

“Wait. You altered Padmé’s genetic records. I’d like you to provide me the unaltered version,” she said, as Karrde looked at her quizzically. “I don’t want any information about her to be lost forever because of this cover-up.”

“Fair enough, I’ll get you the old files, but if you start memorizing her genes or think about cloning her, you might, _MIGHT_, have a bit of a problem.”

“...I am very much aware of that,” Sabé said as she stared at a life-sized portrait of Padmé, her own reflection barely visible in the glass.

“Very well,” Karrde said, as Sabé surreptitiously attached a tracking device to the edge of his cloak when he turned around. “Take care, Sabé. If you don’t change your mind about my offer, I’ll be gone by the celebration.”

* * *

Sabé spent the afternoon as she had every previous afternoon following one of her trips to the museum: sitting alone in the _Drifting Sun,_ her personal shuttle, and crying. Trying to work out the stress before meeting back up with the others.

“You don’t have a problem. Not at all!” she muttered sarcastically to herself once she’d finally run out of tears.

The idea of breaking into the museum and stealing everything Padmé-related was popping into her mind with increasing frequency, and she was getting more and more tempted by it.

_I may have a problem._

As had become routine, she went into the refresher to wash her face. She was confident in her awareness of how she looked to assume it was washed, because she kept the mirror covered except in cases it was important to look a specific way.

Next step in the routine she'd fallen into: recalling everything leading up to Padmé’s death and wondering how she could’ve possibly prevented it even though she was missing numerous key details. There were some aspects of Padmé’s private life she knew of, though ‘knowing’ and ‘understanding’ were very different.

_How did I lose to that idiot?_ Sabé wondered to herself. _I go off hunting down a clandestine slaving operation, and then SUDDENLY you have a new bodyguard. And then you MARRIED HIM. When did THAT become an option?!_

Anakin Skywalker was dead, which was unfortunate for several reasons, but primarily because Sabé would never get the chance to smack him upside the head.

_I don’t know what you did, but if you could've saved her and didn't, I will find a way to reach into the Force and personally throttle whatever’s left of your spirit._

It was never supposed to be like this. Padmé depended on Sabé for protection. The former being dead when the latter was alive was a reality that never should’ve existed.

_I should never have let you leave Coruscant that day. Not without me._

The idea of giving up her little plan and getting off the planet occurred to her. Distance from Naboo had made her feel better, this return had made her feel worse than ever before, it wasn’t a complicated pattern to extrapolate from. But Sabé wouldn’t leave without a fight, because Padmé wouldn’t have left. So fight on she would, whether she was as strong as Padmé needed or not.

“Sabé, are you there?” she heard Moteé’s voice come through the ship’s comm.

“I’m here,” Sabé said in her even-toned Amidala voice, while really she felt angry at herself for losing track of the time. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all, you’ve simply been gone from the safehouse for nearly an hour past the time we agreed on. Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” Sabé said, wiping away her tears even though no one was here to see them. “I’m on my way back now.”

* * *

After running a sensor over himself to discover the tracking device Sabé had planted on him, which he then slipped into the purse of a random bystander, Karrde returned to his ship.

The spaceport wrapped around the bottom of the cliff under Theed, humid air rising from where the waterfalls hit the ground and contained landing pads for ships ranging from single-person transports to medium freighters bringing supplies from offworld. Vessels weren’t the only arrivals from beyond the system, as neighboring the spaceport was the primary holonet transceiver connecting Naboo’s local network to the wider galaxy, news and media flooding to and from a million worlds. While not particularly efficient in its total use of space, Karrde found the curves and odd asymmetry aesthetically satisfying, and the air was the most refreshing he’d breathed on any ‘civilized’ world.

Legally called ‘Transport 378’ and dubbed ‘the ship’ by Karrde and Vrask, the ship was a squat, dull-green, trapezoidal shape when looked at from the side, with a quartet of black-and-grey-striped ion engines affixed to the back. The utilitarian design was a recent purchase made with the rapidly increasing profits of Karrde’s enterprises and selected due to his usual _Wild Karrde_ being unnecessarily bulky for this trip. He wanted to name the ship the _Light-Sabé-Er_ just to be irritating. It was only a box on the registry he needed to fill in.

_Stop that. What happened to not ticking off potential business partners? Sabé obviously doesn’t enjoy puns._

Now he wanted to paint- no, _engrave_ the name into the side of the ship and give it to Sabé as a gift.

_It’s just so much FUN though._

Perhaps another time. This was his only way off of Naboo. Though with so much happening, why would he ever want to leave? Just this morning, he'd learned so many interesting things.

_Sabé and Padmé. ‘Sadmé’. Yep, that sounds about right._

Two people inexorably paired together for over half their lives. Personally, he’d never felt anything close to that level of interest in someone else. It did strike him as rather weird that part of the relationship involved making Sabé look exactly like Amidala. No matter how many reasons they had to become closer, there was no way to make dating someone who looked that much like you not be a little strange.

_Maybe that’s why it didn’t work out._

Dispersing that odd thought, it was time to get back to work, connecting to his web of contacts via the communication suite in the ship. This trip to Naboo was keeping him away from his base for a week longer than planned, so he had to direct things remotely, and his computer display received a torrent of updates.

Messages transmitted from listening devices hidden in senators’ offices to compile into blackmail files. Spice shipments from Hutt Space to the Core Worlds. New freighter purchases, plus modifications for reduced travel time in hyperspace and baffle standard law enforcement sensor probes.

If he wasn’t able to maintain his communications network to operate from a distance, he wouldn’t be able to keep taking care of things personally like this. One more reason to make overtures to someone with Sabé’s competence. With Sabé added into this mix, he’d have a new source of intelligence to target competitors. The reports were accurate, she was in contact with slave liberation movements in the Outer Rim, and a few other handmaidens were still helping her. If he helped her destroy those wretched slavers, he’d also destroy competing smuggling businesses. The infiltration skills Sabé and however many handmaidens she was working with could also prove a huge asset.

As a bonus working off of Naboo, a planet with an extremely porous crust containing subterranean oceans, this was a good excuse to finally construct a secret underwater hideout. He’d always wanted one of those.

Assuming his efforts were having any effect on Sabé. Though he believed she was intrigued by his offer, their limited encounters had been tense, albeit decreasingly so, and Sabé definitely didn’t trust him or appreciate his attitude at times. No matter, she’d be expecting to see him again later to return the untampered palace files. If you constantly argued with a business partner the deal would fall apart, but constant compliance could give the impression of deception or manipulation. Only fools trusted sycophants. Minor points of contention, when strategically utilized, could encourage understanding.

It occurred to Karrde that perhaps he was putting an inordinate amount of time and effort into the bodyguard. The current plan would demand he stay until Empire Day had passed, even though his people had expected him to be back on Myrkr by now.

Could she and the handmaidens really make that much of a difference in overcoming his superior?

Deposing Car’das would demand calling in any and all help he could get, and there was a lot about Sabé that intrigued him enough to help her succeed out of curiosity as much as anything. Worst case scenario, if he REALLY needed Sabé for something, he could blackmail her by threatening to reveal Leia to the Emperor. An extreme last resort, and a bluff on his part, but still a resort.

“We’ve already been here for days longer than we planned, and Sabé may have told others that we’re here,” warned Vrask. “What if she reports us to law enforcement?”

“On what charges? She has no evidence, she’s committed at least one count of trespassing herself, I doubt she knows where we are, and I haven’t done anything illegal... on this planet... since two days ago,” replied Karrde.

“Two days you’ve spent waiting for her to buy supplies from you.”

“We’re helping her free of charge, if asked.”

“For _free_? Why, Karrde, have the Nabooians actually convinced you to try making the galaxy a better place without dangling something shiny in front of you?” Vrask exclaimed as she threw her arm around him. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

“Yes, I’m such a generous soul. After all, how could it possibly benefit me to ally myself with a coordinated squad of highly trained, experienced infiltrators who once staffed a woman with galaxy-spanning influence, who make their home on the planet the ruler of the known galaxy is constructing his personal retreat? Truly, I am but a fool whose incomprehensible machinations are the product of madness,” Karrde said sarcastically, still in his friend’s crushing embrace. “She’s also perhaps the only person in the galaxy I can reliably trust to help fulfill my contract with Tano.”

“Ah, yes, this mysterious new deal you won’t even tell _me_ anything about.”

“I told you things. I told you that there was a lot I couldn’t tell you, and Sabé already knew it all anyway,” Karrde said while wriggling out of Vrask’s grasp, recalling a tense discussion they’d had while he avoided any revelation of Leia Organa’s importance. “Sabé seemed like an excellent contact. I want her as an ally if at all possible.”

“And how does your plan to attend the Empire Day celebration fit in to this?” asked Vrask. “This seems like a long way to go, especially when we only came here to satisfy your arrangement with Ahsoka.”

“Getting Sabé on my side helps keep Tano and Offee on my side which brings in millions of rebel credits, as well as remaining on good terms with two of the only trained, non-imperial Force wielders left in the galaxy. I’m taking advantage of an opportunity,” said Karrde. “Without Amidala, several of the departed handmaidens, and her relationship with the planetary government severely damaged by the political climate, she’ll find it harder to obtain supplies within this time crunch she’s under. We wait and keep alert for the moment she contacts us. Get her whatever she asks for.”

* * *

The three visiting handmaidens were all gathered in the safehouse when Sabé returned late, huddled around a small table studying datapads with concerned expressions.

“We’ve been running into problems,” Eirtaé began. “The equipment we need for your plan isn’t easy to come by, and we can’t get everything before Empire Day.”

“Suppliers respond to credits. Give them more for faster deliveries,” replied Sabé.

“We don’t have credits to spare. Not in the necessary quantities,” said Moteé.

This had been a factor Sabé had been afraid of. Since Padmé had died, the accounts dedicated to supplying her coterie wouldn’t be replenished, not in any amount significant enough to make a difference. Wringing her hands for a moment while trying to think of any better options, Sabé sighed and decided to do something she’d been very much hoping she wouldn’t resort to. Especially when she suspected this had been the plan to entice her all along.

“There’s a criminal named Karrde currently on Naboo, some kind of smuggler based on what he’d tell me,” Sabé explained. “He’s not with the Empire, and is interested in helping me. Anything I ask for, supposedly.”

The introduction of a criminal element into their plans was met with the hesitant response Sabé expected.

“Why would he do that?” Moteé asked doubtfully.

“He’s got it in his head that we could be of use to each other, my skills and the contacts I’ve established on Coruscant and throughout the Outer Rim combined with his own network,” Sabé explained, looking around at her three companions. Only four of them were together for this out of more than a dozen handmaidens who’d served their queen, and now they were acting without the support of the RNSF or funding from Padmé. No, that wasn’t accurate. They weren’t lacking the RNSF’s help, they were actively plotting against it. “I’m considering accepting the offer. We’re short-handed, on a deadline, and without access to the equipment and credits we’ve had previously.”

The other handmaidens looked at each other, until Eirtaé spoke, “We trust you to decide our course of action.”

This just made her feel even worse. Now it was all her responsibility if something went wrong, and the others were all following her out of loyalty, not agreement. Because bringing in a smuggler of unclear allegiance into a mission directly targeting the imperial military couldn’t possibly backfire, could it?

“If we need help, we should contact Typho,” objected Dormé. “Why would we ask for outside assistance before going to him?”

“Because I don’t know if we can count on Typho, or anyone in the security force since Palpatine appointed his uncle to be a moff. Even if they’d be willing to betray Panaka to work with us, it would be harder for them to remain unnoticed while receiving communication,” Sabé countered. “I don’t trust Karrde, but he’s not with the Empire, and he’s good enough to get past palace security. We could use him... He’s also accompanied by a Trandoshan, and she’s strong enough to overpower me with minimal effort.”

“Interesting...” Eirtaé said with a raised eyebrow. For a long moment that was all anyone said while looking to Sabé for leadership.

“I know of one way to help decide how to proceed,” Dormé said as she opened up the suitcase containing some of their old outfits and cosmetics. “He wants to help you? Let’s put his abilities to the test.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, looking through Wookieepedia for handmaidens to include, preferably ones with established characteristics to work with: "Alright, who's not dead? Sound off."
> 
> The more I learned about Naboo, the more I realized it’s like if a Star Trek planet got stuck in the Star Wars universe, and a very good demonstration of how badly that planet would adjust.
> 
> Between this and TEotS, I’m pretty sure my favorite dynamic to write is “morally-questionable, hypercompetent smartass gives encouragement to uptight, miserable, equally-hypercompetent protagonist”.


	3. Common Ground

Since the smuggler had ditched her tracking device, Sabé’s informants had been able to tell her very little about Talon Karrde, save for how he preferred to remain unnoticed, had more clout than one would expect, and that he was exceedingly reliable, especially by criminal standards. The idea of working with him still didn’t sit well with Sabé. Karrde was several years younger than her, he couldn’t possibly have obtained all these resources on his own so quickly. Someone powerful had to be giving him funding, at least enough to get started, and whether Karrde was acting on their orders or behind their back added to her long-term concerns.

When she’d delivered her requests and instructions via the comm he’d given her, she’d traveled to a few spots via speeder and triangulated his transmission source to a light freighter in the spaceport. Better to have some means of monitoring or tracking him down. It was a bit disconcerting how close his ship was to her own, and Sabé would be sure to take a longer route down one of the lifts connecting the city to the spaceport so she didn’t run into him unintentionally.

Rather than reveal the location of her safehouse, (assuming Karrde had indeed been kidding about bugging it, electronic sweeps found nothing and the comm he’d given her was stored in a shielded container) Sabé had chosen to gather everyone on her personal shuttle, the _Drifting Sun_. The shuttle was a diamond shape, cockpit positioned at one of the obtuse angles with six engines spaced along the back half. Beneath a battered outward appearance, much of the white paint worn away to expose the durasteel beneath, the shuttle contained many of the supplies the handmaidens were used to having access to. Disguises, all manner of security measures, and weapons ranging from standard blasters to royal pistols to sonic grenades to Sabé’s custom-made pair of cortosis vibroblades. No decorations save for the preserved iris of a sando aqua monster that had been torn out during an incident months ago. She wasn’t normally one to collect such grim trophies, but the Gungans were so impressed by what she’d done she felt obligated to keep it.

As Karrde had not been told there would be other handmaidens present, Moteé had taken Sabé’s place, both as simple practice after almost a year of disconnect from one another and to test the smuggler’s observational skills. Dormé’s makeup work was as impeccable as ever, and Moteé was dressed in Sabé’s distractingly eye-catching dark red overcoat over a sharply-cut black suit. The outfit contained a high-quality camera in one of the buttons through which Sabé was observing from the cockpit.

“Welcome to the _Drifting Sun_, Karrde,” the disguised Moteé said in her carefully practiced voice while the smuggler walked up the boarding ramp towards her, dressed in a plain Nabooian outfit and holding a duffle bag, with that titanic Trandoshan Vrask at his side.

Karrde stepped forward and was about to say something, then he stopped, looked Moteé up and down, and cut himself off while frowning slightly. Turning to his Trandoshan friend, the two stared silently at each other for two seconds, with no obvious signals, then they both ignored Moteé and walked around her, checking around the small shuttle until they found Sabé and the other handmaidens in the cockpit.

“If you want me to act as the group's entertainment, tell me ahead of time, I could come with an act ready,” he said when they found her.

“How did you know it wasn’t me?” Sabé asked as the group walked into the crew lounge.

“I researched everything I could on Amidala and her handmaidens, including many of your tricks. That’s why I memorized the number and placement of the freckles on the backs of your hands. Also, you cut your fingernails shorter than your friend here does,” Karrde said, pointing back to Moteé as Sabé glanced down at her hands. “All the quality education on this planet, and you’re baffled by the concept of studying before a test. Remarkable makeup work, though. It’s uncanny,” he added complimentarily.

“I could also smell the difference between you, even under all the perfume and makeup particulate,” Vrask added while she took a few quick sniffs.

“Anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Karrde said, extending his hand to the other handmaidens, Vrask similarly greeting them.

“Dormé, Moteé, and Eirtaé,” Sabé said, introducing the others, who she could feel were similarly disconcerted by how quickly the deception had fallen apart.

“We must be out of practice...” Dormé murmured.

“I have all but one of the items you requested,” Karrde said, ignoring Dormé’s aggravation now that he and Vrask had passed the test and holding out the duffle bag he’d brought with him, setting it on the round table encompassed by a ring of seats. “Four blank imperial ident cards, three holographic disguise matrices, and four wide-coverage comm jammers.”

“I only asked for two cards,” Sabé said.

“My supplier had access to more, I thought you might use the extras. If you don’t, I can use them at a later date,” Karrde said. “The only thing I couldn’t get in time was the seismic charge, but it’s on its way. It’s too large, too detectable to be slipped in through the spaceport. Is there a remote area on the planet we can make the drop unnoticed?”

“I’ll get you the coordinates to direct your runner,” Sabé replied as she inspected the equipment. This was all top of the line technology, and the cards were excellent forgeries. Karrde had really come through, and on less than a day’s notice.

“You asked for a _seismic charge_?” Moteé asked, who’d been expecting a more conventional explosive and was horrified at the thought of how much damage the weapon could do.

“The device won’t be active, but we need to make this look real and threatening,” said Sabé, before turning to Karrde. “It _won’t_ be active, correct?”

“Of course not. The baradium detonation agent has been removed, it’s harmless without it- except for some temporary hearing loss if you stand too close, I think,” he said. “Was there anything else you needed me for?”

Quickly glancing at her friends to check for any last-second objections, finding none, Sabé went ahead with her offer.

“I have a plan to disrupt the Empire Day celebration, and I’ve decided to extend an offer to include you,” Sabé began. “It will be quite dangerous-”

“We’re in,” Karrde said, Vrask nodding and confidently baring her teeth in anticipation without even a hint of surprise at being volunteered. “What’re you thinking?”

“We’re going to infiltrate the palace as imperial officers, and having a practiced infiltrator who appears dissimilar from myself could be useful,” Sabé said, sitting down as her friends and her guests followed her lead. “We’d be providing you a disguise and fake identity.”

“Why not use the holographic matrix I brought? These ones are a little bulky, but we could manage,” asked Karrde.

“Not an option here. The security scanners at the palace are thorough enough to detect the matrix, but not something as mundane as makeup,” said Dormé.

Karrde nodded, “I’ll trust in your abilities, then.”

“We’re going to use the palace’s defenses to disrupt the Empire Day celebration,” said Eirtaé, tapping a panel built into the table to bring up a holographic model of the palace and the surrounding buildings, with a marker denoting where the ion pulse was placed. “The palace is protected by a Tollan Corp. type SG1 ion pulse, designed to short out the electronics of an invading army.”

As she tapped a few keys, a simplified rendition of an ion wave spread outwards through the parade of walkers and tanks.

“Hold on a moment, _that’s_ what the ion pulse does?” Karrde said, observing the animation with a worried expression. “I thought it was some kind of modified ion _cannon_, not an omnidirectional wave that hits the whole city. What about people depending on equipment in hospitals? Or your own starfighter force in case of a real attack? You could kill people with that.”

“The pulse can be controlled to only hit a specified radius and intended primarily to defend the palace. We’ll only send it out as far as necessary to damage the imperial vehicles, and emergency facilities are shielded from it,” explained Sabé.

“...Okay,” Karrde said cautiously as he leaned back, still not entirely at ease and thinking about how much this could harm civilians.

“We’re going to use the dud seismic charge to provoke the Empire into triggering the pulse in order to disable the bomb,” said Sabé. “While the threat gets reported, you and I will be within the palace disguised as personnel to encourage and ensure the pulse’s activation.”

“When do you intend to activate the pulse?” asked Vrask.

“Any point when the military parade is in range would do nicely, ideally, we’d be cutting off Moff Panaka’s speech shortly after it begins,” said Dormé. “Keep him at the center of public attention the moment everything unravels while preventing him from delivering his message, and making sure he’s not inside the palace to interfere.”

“Even though the pulse is harmless to organics, aren’t you worried about starting a panic?” asked Vrask.

Eirtaé was unconcerned. “Our people endured the occupation without giving in to despair. They will survive a moment of fright without losing their heads.”

“Well aren’t ya’ll just kriffin’ perfect,” Karrde muttered under his breath. Either no one except Sabé heard him, or they didn’t care.

“The purpose of the jammers will be to cut off communications between security personnel throughout the city, particularly squads scanning for explosives,” explained Moteé. “With Sabé and yourself at the palace, you can offer pre-prepared evidence of the bomb threat while in disguise to provoke the activation of the pulse.”

“After that, we use one of the palace’s secret passageways to get out. The threat we’ll be describing will be non-existent, and any records of it will vanish with us,” Sabé explained, as Karrde nodded with increasing interest as the plan became clear. “We can’t do anything which will definitively reveal the whole fiasco was orchestrated.”

“Don’t you want Panaka to know it was you?” asked Karrde.

“Don’t let him know. Let him _suspect_,” said Sabé. “We can’t do anything which will leave evidence of foul play. One of the reasons you and I will be in the control room is to both ensure the pulse’s activation, and to provide data to provoke such a response. The entire plan is intended to cause damage to imperial equipment while also confusing and humiliating Panaka's administration with the lack of evidence or explanation for anything that happened.”

“What will I be contributing to this?” asked Vrask. “I don’t exactly blend in, especially among a primarily human populace.”

“You’ll be with Eirtaé and me to monitor communications,” said Moteé. “We could use the extra help to disrupt security coordination.”

“No use for a sniper, or beating anyone up?” Vrask asked with a bit of disappointment as she tentatively raised her claws.

“I’m afraid not,” said Eirtaé, who despite ostensibly abhorring violence, appeared similarly disappointed that they wouldn’t be seeing Vrask in action. “We don’t want to directly attack anyone.”

“Now that equipment concerns are no longer a factor,” Sabé said, trying to put more confidence in her voice, “we have six days to prepare. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Five days before the celebration, as promised, the seismic charge lay hidden at the drop point Sabé had specified, nestled in mist-covered mountains two hundred kilometers to the north of Theed.

After she’d personally checked to make sure the charge was indeed inactive, she moved it with a repulsor-dolley and left it in the back of the _Drifting Sun_ as Sabé hauled it back to the capital.

In the privacy of the ship’s cockpit, Sabé deliberately flew slower than necessary as she took in the view of her homeworld. The lush green plains extended in all directions, human settlements dotted the landscape while in the larger lakes she crossed, lights below marked the locations of Gungan cities.

Everything she needed was in place, her plan was in motion, her allies were ready to move, and it didn’t feel like it mattered _at all_.

_Nothing about this situation makes sense. I’m watching the planet, her planet, getting twisted into something unrecognizable by Sheev, slowly enough no one else is concerned. Am I the only one even trying to do anything? Is everyone forgetting who we’re supposed to be? Did they ever care before, or was it all empty words when everything was going well?_

Times like this, she missed Pantora. Very little of the scenery on that chilly world reminded her of home. Senator Riyo Chuchi was actively working against the Empire, living for her people, as she put it. The Pantoran government was undermining the Empire in whatever ways it could, while Panaka was assisting in Naboo’s descent with equal and opposite resolve.

Less significantly but far more surprisingly, Riyo followed Sabé’s advice on matters of personal safety without objection.

_That had required some time to adjust to,_ Sabé thought, smiling to herself for the first time during this little excursion.

Flying back south, Sabé stared at the guidance system, and after deciding she had enough time left before the others expected her, settled down a kilometer from one of the mountain range’s villages. Close enough to make the walk manageable, far enough not to get the ship noticed as she landed it among the tallest, densest cluster of trees she could work it into.

The clothes she was wearing were all practical for flying, and viable for an inconspicuous walk towards the white-domed house. Heading into the town, Sabé’s keen awareness of her surroundings kicked in as she watched everything. Any disturbances to the old architecture which could indicate the addition of sensors, transmitters, any kind of monitoring equipment. Watching for any of the townspeople who paid too close attention to her as she focused straight ahead.

“Hello, Jobal,” Sabé said as Padmé’s mother noticed her approach. The older woman’s eyes briefly went wide with surprise, until a second later she recognized her daughter’s body double.

_I really should have called ahead,_ Sabé thought grimly as she tried not to frown at her lack of forethought.

“Sabé, what are you doing here?” Jobal Naberrie asked happily as she set down her watering can and walked over to embrace Sabé, while her husband Ruwee heard them through the open door and welcomed her in.

“What does it matter? It’s wonderful to see her,” Ruwee asked as he hugged Sabé as well.

“I’ve been on the planet on personal business, and wanted to make sure I checked up on you at least once,” Sabé said with a smile, trying not to think about the inactive ordnance sitting in her ship not far from here.

“Sola! Sabé is here!” Jobal called, as Padmé’s sister came in from the back yard with her ten and seven-year-old children, Ryoo and Pooja. It had been so long since she'd seen them that Sabé wouldn't have expected to be remembered by the children, but they were as happy to have her as the adults, and Sabé was quickly set down on the couch, brought tea and snacks, her jacket kindly taken and hung up.

For half an hour, the Naberries treated their guest as though she was part of their amazing, wonderful family, to Sabé’s increasing concern and discomfort. She thought about Leia, how she should be held by her grandparents at least once. To meet her aunt and cousins. For them to all be a family together. Sabé trusted the Organas and had grown comfortable with the idea of them raising Leia, but that also made her want to bring everyone together more. They would get along well, and be happy together, but she couldn't allow that to happen because of the Empire.

“Do you have any plans to attend the Empire Day celebration in Theed?” asked Sabé, trying to distract herself.

“Oh, no, we weren’t,” Jobal said, as her daughter fumbled for an excuse.

“It simply isn’t worth taking the trip to the capital,” said Sola. "I don't think the children are interested in traveling."

“That’s probably for the best,” Sabé replied with a forced smile as she sipped her tea, and the married couple’s eyes met each other for a moment and they all smartly dropping the subject. Discussions pervaded regarding their works, tending the house, opinions on politics being a subject they all ignored despite the timing of the visit.

All of them happily sat with her, chatting, looking at her like she was family.

If anyone deserved to know the truth, Padmé’s family did.

“One of the reasons I’m visiting is to make sure you’re safe,” she said vaguely, their reaction showing she didn’t need to elaborate any further. Even in a quiet place like this, the people who raised Padmé certainly wouldn’t remain oblivious to the growth of the Empire.

“We haven’t been given any trouble,” said Ruwee. “I don’t think our family has been active enough to warrant any attention.”

“No one unusual has moved into town, and no one has come by our home,” added Sola.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Sabé said with considerable relief, though she probably wouldn’t be completely satisfied unless she swept the entire town personally. The conversation turned back to more mundane topics again, no mentions of the Empire or rebellion. Only family. Because that's something that brought them comfort in times like these. Family. Sabé ought to feel better too, the mood was so warm and welcoming.

She couldn't take another minute of this, sitting around sharing stories from their lives as if this was normal. As if every moment wasn't a lie of omission on her part.

_TELL THEM._

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I can’t stay any longer,” Sabé said as she grabbed her jacket and left, giving and receiving rushed goodbyes before tensely walking back to the ship. As the metal door sealed behind her, Sabé slumped down to the floor, angry at herself and wondering what she'd expected to happen.

* * *

Upon her return to Theed, the next step in their preparations began, better to be done immediately before setup and security arrangements for the celebration began in earnest. Today, there were no restrictions on where civilians could go.

One of their holographic matrices was used to conceal the charge. Nothing complex, it just turned into a wooden barrel. Nobody was ever concerned by the presence of a barrel. Vrask was helpful, being the only one strong enough to move the charge around on her own to specific hidden positions while they moved it around via landspeeder, and they took recordings at appropriate times such that the shadows would look correct for the time of day the pulse was planned to go off. Sabé had thought of everything, assumed the RNSF would be at its best.

A simple doctored image may have sufficed, but a recorded video and detailed sensor scans would be so much more convincing. On Empire Day, the recordings would be used to eventually convince the Empire that the entire city was in danger of being obliterated at the push of a button. In reality, the single dud charge would be back on the _Drifting Sun_ throughout the day, while the handmaidens would be carefully jamming the communications and slicing the computers would ensure the RNSF only saw what Sabé wanted them to see. Because she’d be there in person to provide the encouragement they needed, then disappear with the evidence.

The challenge in all of this was the fact she was working against Quarsh Panaka, someone exactly as paranoid and focused as she was because those were traits he’d imparted onto her, in her training to become a handmaiden and throughout Padmé’s reign. The security arrangements, if not necessarily of his devising and overseeing, were certainly done with his knowledge and approval. Which was why Sabé needed to avoid him as much as possible, another reason to execute the plan while he was standing on the steps of the palace, protected by snipers, guards, a discrete personal energy shield, probably a mesh underlay beneath his moff uniform.

Knowing Panaka, Sabé would’ve expected it to be a coin toss whether the ion pulse would even be kept active during the celebration or be shut down as a precaution against exactly what she was planning. The most recent data burst from the listening device she'd planted revealed it would be, fear of being without a weapon overwhelming fear of that weapon being turned against its holder.

Next, Sabé pulled up all the information they had on current imperial and RNSF personnel and where they would be stationed during the celebration, to determine which of them would be taking the fall.

* * *

That first impression on the shuttle, contrary to Karrde’s gregarious demeanor, had not endeared the other handmaidens to him. Not at all.

_‘We must be out of practice.’ Yeah, because nobody except you could possibly be the slightest bit attentive to detail. Couldn’t be that your makeup work isn’t foolproof, _Dorra_. Couldn’t be that the pretentious aristocrats you normally deal with are oblivious airheads who’ve given you a false sense of security. Couldn’t be that maybe we’re not to be taken lightly, nooooooo, how could some dimwit smugglers possibly see through your perfect deception?_

_You’re the elite handmaidens, you all got to grow up on the perfect peaceful paradise planet where you were given all the best EVERYTHING. How could I match any of you?_

_Pompous snobs_, he thought bitterly, all while smiling pleasantly.

_I bet they think I’m illiterate._

It wouldn’t annoy him so much if he hadn’t given a clear explanation for how he’d picked up on what they were doing, or if they weren’t ignoring Vrask’s contribution. At first, he wasn’t entirely sure of himself, but that famed Trandoshan sense of smell confirmed it, and then she was forgotten. Good thing for the Naboo that Vrask was so easygoing.

That negative impression softened when he got to watch them work, and realized how hard-earned and deserved their pride was.

In most cases, Karrde worked entirely with other smugglers, people who didn’t exactly share his appreciation for the subtleties of infiltration and misdirection, preferring to stick to threats and intimidation with as many blasters as they could carry. The handmaidens, rather, used every trick they could think of, took every advantage, had caches of hidden weapons and tools, put real craft into all of their outfits, thinking on every single detail. The technology of Naboo included unique innovations revolving around inconspicuous cameras, recorders, and weapons made to be concealed within their clothing.

At first, Karrde assumed they would be using Theed Security uniforms, but Sabé preferred to go in as offworld imperial personnel, to sow further division in the inevitable aftermath because the officer in charge of the pulse control was with the RNSF. Their ident cards were matched to similar-looking personnel who would take the blame. Their rank bars contained emergency toolkits, and other gadgets he’d never even heard of.

It was all exceptionally professional, and Karrde was _loving_ it, struggling to keep his hands from shaking with excitement. Most of the people in his employ weren’t half this skilled, and he considered himself to have high standards.

The handmaidens were an absolute delight, though he did still sense discomfort at his presence which he worked to assuage with limited success. No matter how much he contributed, there was no changing the fact he wasn’t one of them.

_Perhaps it isn’t that I’m here, it’s who _isn’t_ here._

Sabé had been putting a great deal of stress on herself, though Karrde wanted to make good on his word enough to wake her up from her nap in the pilot chair of her ship, without the others around. Before nudging her, Karrde noticed the datapad sitting on her armrest, showing a local newsnet called the Theed Chronicle. Something to look at later, read what Sabé reads.

“You woke me from a wonderful dream,” Sabé said as she drearily sat up, still not completely alert.

Karrde restrained a sigh as he expected what was coming. “Was it about Nabe-”

“Padmé asked for my help filling out her divorce documentation. Binks was serving as the notary.”

“...A fun way to while away the day if ever there was one,” Karrde said, sarcasm overwhelmed by surprise at the idea of the peaceful Naboo remaining so close with the fearsome Jar Jar Binks. That being’s past, as Karrde could deduce, included being so violently destructive even by the standards of the Gungan warriors that he was exiled for their safety, only for his people to plead for him to return and lead their army against the Trade Federation. Then he eventually persuaded the senate into embracing the creation of a military, thereby becoming one of the main Republic provocateurs of the Clone Wars. Every time he directly involved himself in the conflict he left devastation in his wake, and given the timing and circumstances Karrde had to wonder if he had been in league with Palpatine from the start, though he lacked definitive evidence. For now. “Anyway, here’s you ex’s genetic code, and the rest of the stolen data,” he said casually, presenting her with a data drive. When she reached for it, he pulled it back slightly and added, “Please don’t do anything weird with it,” before Sabé snatched it out of his hand.

With that matter settled, it was time for step two: opening up the boxes of food he’d brought for everyone. People could go on and on about methods of diplomacy and psychology and Jedi mind tricks, but if you give someone good food, unless they absolutely _hated_ your guts, they were going to like having you around a little bit more than they did before they started eating. In this case, he’d picked up an assortment of a Gungan delicacy, rolls made of raw fish, dried seaweed, and some kind of grain, plus a few sauces. Along with that were assorted sugary pastries he’d bought just in case it turned out eating raw fish wasn’t appealing to everyone. Can't beat excessive sugar.

“I brought snacks,” he said, presenting the offering to Moteé first, who was diligently working on her terminal, collating audio files recorded from intercepted comm transmissions.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, apparently recognizing and excited by the food, turning away from her work to eagerly snag some of the fish rolls and smother them in sauce.

_Mind tricks are for amateurs._

“How’s the comm bugging coming along?” Karrde asked, sitting down next to her and taking a few of the fish rolls, avoiding the types she’d eagerly taken on the assumption they were her favorites.

“I’ve been intercepting transmissions for the last couple days, matching samples to individual personnel. The compositions for the officers you and Sabé will be impersonating are ready for you to start practicing with,” Moteé said. “Have you ever done anything like this before? Sneaking around, I mean. I know smugglers prefer to avoid attention, but personally going undercover like this isn’t something I imagine you doing.”

“That isn’t all I do," Karrde replied slyly, encouraging Moteé's interest.

"Ever have to fight off pirates?" she asked.

"A few times. Usually if I fight, it’s with a blaster, not in my ship, and failing that, I’ve got Vrask and my other employees,” Karrde said, pointing over his shoulder at his second-in-command, who was passing the time off to the side doing two-armed curls with an impressed and delighted Eirtaé serving as the weight.

“Did she swear some kind of life debt to you?” asked Sabé, who had somehow materialized behind Karrde without him noticing.

“No need for anything like that. I like to think she sees me as a younger brother. Or perhaps a mischievous pet she keeps around to see what whacky shenanigans I’ll get into next,” said Karrde. “Also, I pay her _obscenely_ well.”

Vrask, cognizant that they were impolitely talking about her while she was present, abandoned her newest exercise routine to get in on the conversation.

“If I threaten him, you’ll kill and eat me, right?” Sabé commented to Vrask.

“That’s- OW!” Karrde yelped as Vrask suddenly elbowed him.

“Stop telling people I’m going to eat them,” she demanded.

“What’s the problem? I know you’ve eaten people before,” he objected.

“You eat people?” Eirtaé said worriedly.

“Not often, and only after killing them for unrelated reasons. Meat’s meat, my kind aren’t as inclined to waste as yours are,” Vrask replied, turning to Karrde. “_You_ do not get to tell me who to eat.”

“...Fair enough,” Karrde said, returning his focus to Sabé. “Vrask won’t eat you.”

“I _will_ kill you if you kill him, however, that part is no trouble at all,” Vrask warned, affectionately petting Karrde’s head, claws ruffling his hair while her other hand nabbed some fish. Raw meat was her usual preference.

“Oh, I think we could take you,” Dormé said confidently from behind Vrask.

When the Trandoshan turned away from Sabé to face Dormé, Sabé got the latter’s attention with a quick hand signal and vigorously shook her head, because _no they couldn’t_.

“Are you a Wookiee?” asked Vrask.

“No?” said Dormé, who assumed that was obvious.

“Then you would be unwise to pick a fight with a Trandoshan,” warned Vrask.

“There are sapient species in the galaxy who are larger and stronger than yours,” countered Eirtaé.

“Perhaps,” Vrask admitted as she bared her teeth and displayed her claws. “But they’re not meaner!”

The resulting threat display succeeded in intimidating the handmaiden, and Karrde reflected on Vrask’s mastery of giving people a hard time. When they met, she spent the first three days pretending she couldn’t speak Basic. The inimitable manner in which she revealed the truth set off a chain of events that ended with him spending a week in the local jail.

“Hey, um, whatcha doin’?” he asked Eirtaé, who was hovering around him with a tape measure.

“Taking your measurements to modify the uniform to fit you. The ones we have are fitted for us.”

“No need. I have my own imperial disguise. Unless there’s some difference in the local designs?”

“Show me what you have, then we’ll compare,” she replied.

After everyone finished eating, Vrask went back to the smugglers’ ship and retrieved some of Karrde’s own supplies, including his uniform and a set of polychromatic lenses he inserted into his eyes while Eirtaé checked his uniform.

“I think gray eyes would suit me well for this mission,” Karrde said, altering his irises with a color wheel displayed on his pad and checking how they looked in the shuttle’s refresher. None of the others had commented on it, but it didn’t go unnoticed that Sabé had a cloth for covering her mirror that had been partly moved to the side. Interesting. “Or perhaps the blue. What do you think?”

“The grey,” Sabé replied. “You’re going to be disguised as a specific imperial officer. We can’t let you have just any eye color.”

“Gray it is,” he said, setting them to the appropriate color.

“Next, we need to create prostheses to give you and Sabé the correct facial features,” Dormé said as they pulled out a pair of collapsible chairs.

“Makeup test, let’s do it!” Karrde said enthusiastically as he sat down. “Make me pretty!”

“We’ll far need more supplies to accomplish such a feat,” Sabé said, not too maliciously, as she sat down in a second chair. “We’ve selected two captains who are part of the security arrangements for Empire Day, one operating in separate groups who resemble us closely enough to be impersonated. I will be Sergeant Heltziabe, you are Corporal Arivient. For the next few days, we’re going to be learning everything about them.”

Dormé diligently worked off of profile images of both imperial officers, determined to make it so their own mothers wouldn't be able to distinguish Sabé and Karrde. The selection had been made such that minimal work was required anyway, aside from things like angling Sabé's ears further back, giving Karrde a fake mustache, changing the eyebrow shapes slightly, emphasizing cheekbones, a few freckles.

Sabé was intimately familiar with the palace layout, but required Karrde to pull an all-nighter with Dormé drilling him on the floor plan of the palace and its support facilities. Including every single level, not just their intended route through to get access to the ion pulse control.

“What are these force fields for? _What are they for_?” Karrde hissed while pointing at the appropriate spot in the generator complex, desperate for an explanation that no one seemed able to provide.

Every single thing palace security systems had heard the officers say for the past few days had been recorded by Moteé's who provided the samples to have the imposters practice their accents and inflections.

And so it went for three days. The team clearly laid out their roles in the infiltration, developed contingencies, backup escape routes. During the most recent meal break, the handmaidens had some critiques of the event schedule. 

“I can’t believe Panaka has scheduled himself to speak first,” said Sabé.

“He’s speaking first? And not as an introduction for Queen Apailana?” asked Eirtaé.

Sabé continued, “His speech is first, set to last one hour. The Queen’s has been scheduled afterwards to last for half that time.”

The political situation was intriguing to observe. One reason Karrde had been interested in Sabé as an ally was because of the connection between her and the Emperor. She’d met him personally, even if she would have no respect for him now, nor would he have any regard for her. It seemed he may have overestimated the despot’s fondness for his homeworld if his supporters were shunting major traditions after only a year in power. This hypothetical partnership might not have the potential payoff he’d hoped, though knowing the handmaidens’ skills, he still wanted to see this through.

“I wouldn’t have expected that to be tolerated, moff or not,” continued Moteé.

“It shouldn’t be tolerated. This is Naboo, _no one_ is above the queen,” Dormé said angrily, as Karrde briefly glanced in Sabé’s direction, then quickly looked away again and kept his mouth shut.

_Oh, I’m pretty sure somebody’s been on top of the queen._

“How would Amidala have handled this situation?” asked Karrde, and all four handmaidens paused to think on exactly how their mistress would treat such disrespect.

“Attempting to predict how Padmé would react to any situation is a futile exercise,” Eirtaé eventually responded, and the others’ expressions showed general agreement.

“My best guess is she would simply anticipate what her adversary’s speech would consist of, and proceed to speak half as long, but four times as impactfully,” Sabé concluded. “Then she would ignore the time limit and deliver an hour-long speech regardless.”

“Or make up an excuse for why she must leave the celebration entirely, then create her own scheduled for the exact same time,” said Eirtaé.

“And in an adjacent location with superior speaker volume,” added Moteé.

“Sounds like quite an impressive leader,” said Karrde. “I have no doubt Amidala could make just about any imperial flunky squirm with a few sentences.”

Though the statement wasn’t untrue, it was also true that Karrde had quickly realized the most effective way of getting along well with the handmaidens was to lavish praise on Naberrie as often as could be naturally worked into conversation. What were they going to do, argue that _no,_ she wasn’t amazing? There was the caveat that the wording should avoid explicit reminders that she was dead. Brought down the mood. Sabé had asserted compliments would get him nowhere, but that only applied to compliments sent in her direction.

“I doubt the Empire would’ve lasted a month had she lived,” said Eirtaé.

The statement was met with agreement from the others, though with a bit of melancholy. There was that mood getting brought down. Also, however much the handmaidens loved their queen, they weren’t delusional, they knew how the odds were against them, and how they would’ve been against Amidala.

“It was never all her, it was how she was able to motivate people,” said Sabé. “There was so much apathy, rotting the galaxy. Those people who weren’t relishing the pain and suffering of others turned a blind eye to it. Like Panaka.”

“Or people seeking to profit from developing conflict,” said Dormé, unsubtly directing the remark at Karrde.

Dormé was consistently the one who found his involvement the most objectionable, and Karrde had largely ignored her remarks and tried to be friendly. Grouping him in with imperial supporters in front of the others demanded he say something in response.

"Hey, whatever my concerns over money, I'm no friend of the Emperor. I’ve seen people in danger because of his new government, and helped them,” Karrde said.

“Such as?” asked Sabé, even though she was fully aware of at least one example herself.

_Is she giving me an opening to make a good impression?_

_Did she tell the others about Leia? I wouldn’t in her place, but did she?_

Rather than discuss the most recent example of his sympathy and risk exposing Leia, and whom else he was giving sanctuary, Karrde recalled a better example and replied, “During the Clone Wars, the planet Cotran experienced mass food shortages when a Republic _Acclamator-class_ assault ship was damaged in a space battle, fell to the planet below at terminal velocity onto a swath of farmland, and spread a dust cloud across the eastern continent that blocked sunlight for days. The planetary government contained the problem, but the damage to that season’s harvest was done, and many people were fleeing to avoid future fighting.”

“It’s unfortunate the Separatists caused so much damage,” said Moteé.

“...Cotran was a CIS planet. The Republic attacked it,” he replied, and Moteé became quietly embarrassed at her error as Karrde grudgingly went on, “People were fleeing to the neighboring immigrant-friendly system of Escarix, thousands of them, maybe hundreds of thousands. Some couldn’t afford the trip, or the bureaucracy was taking too long. I’d finished a high-profit supply run through orbiting warships to some of the wealthier citizens, letting them endure the crisis in comfort. Before I left, I came across some people in need, and since Escarix was along the hyperspace route I was going next, I fit twenty-five people aboard my ship and got them to safety, and left them with enough credits to get a start on their new lives.”

“You don’t seem happy with the outcome,” Sabé said almost too quietly to be heard, as Karrde could feel her studying him.

“I was happy to have them aboard. Less happy to fly up and away from Cotran and see the crowds in the spaceport. Thousands more people were struggling to come through. Thousands struggled the day before, thousands would struggle the day after. Twenty-five didn’t make a difference.”

Sabé studied him for several seconds with what disconcertingly tangible thoroughness before quietly replying, “I’m sure it makes a difference to those twenty-five.”

Several cynical replies popped into Karrde’s head, yet when he saw Sabé sincere expression, one he could tell was born of experience rather than naïveté, he slowly nodded and replied, “I hope so.”

“I wish the Republic had done more to help repair the damage,” Eirtaé said disappointedly.

“There were a lot of planets the Republic did nothing to help. Like mine,” Karrde murmured.

“And where do you come from? Some destitute colony in the Outer Rim?” suggested Dormé. “The Republic held immense power, but it couldn’t instantly fix problems at the edges of the galaxy.”

At that, Karrde was tempted to snap at her and explain where his homeworld really lay in the social and political order of the galaxy, but held back. Where he hailed from was a subject he preferred to keep people uncertain of. The frequency those who knew would remind him, or made obnoxious assumptions, quickly became irritating.

“You’re as far off the mark as you can get, and you have no idea how flat those excuses are falling,” he said.

“You can’t tell us a system?” asked Eirtaé.

“Let’s just say I’m from the kind of planet where if you’re born there, your first goal in life is to find a way to leave.”

“Such places are increasing in number now,” Moteé said worriedly, as Karrde refrained from rolling his eyes. Escalating this wasn’t the best move, especially given how easy Moteé was to get along with. He liked Moteé, but this was one of the few topics which could get under his skin.

“You keep talking about how horrible everything is now that Palpatine is in power, but really, this is all the same stuff that’s been going on for the history of the Republic. Exploitation, growing inequality, xenophobia, it’s nothing new, all the freedom and democracy and equality were empty words,” Karrde said, as Sabé suddenly looked uncomfortable. “What’s different now is that before, people at least pretended to be trying to do the right thing. Now nobody even bothers to hide their intentions. Makes my job easier.”

“Don’t lecture us about the shortcomings of the Republic,” countered Moteé. “Our planet endured an invasion while the leadership of the Republic did nothing.”

“Then why are you jumping to its defense?”

“Because at least under the Republic, things had a chance to become better!” snapped Sabé. “Padmé made plans, wrote legislature designed to help people throughout the galaxy. Better education, liberation of clones, decrease of economic inequality. She could’ve made changes."

_But she didn’t._

_The one person in the galaxy helped most by Padmé Naberrie was Emperor Palpatine._

This was getting into a dangerous topic of conversation, and Karrde knew to choose his next words very carefully. Not only was he was going against majority opinion now, but the topic of this strategically-utilized point of contention had turned away from the Republic in general and back towards Naberrie. As he saw the pain in Sabé’s eyes, he decided to stop pushing back, it was counterproductive and irrelevant.

“You said you’ve read the proposals she was planning?” he asked Sabé, looking for a peaceable way off of this topic.

“Of course I did.”

With a demure shrug and genuine curiosity, he asked, “May I see them?”

* * *

Out on the expansive permacrete landing platform of the spaceport, Karrde carried an empty caf mug, filled it up with Naboo water from a public drinking fountain, and then went back to the ship and moistened the soil of a callacacta plant he’d nurtured for over twelve years. Its branching turquoise segments spread in all directions, their color standing out in the metal room of this new ship just as much as on the _Wild Karrde_. Lifting the dangling chains of segments up from one the side of the pot, he added a new tally denoting another world this lucky plant had received water from. Up to thirty-eight now. With that little ritual out of the way, he took some time to wind down and rest. It was a big day tomorrow.

There wasn’t enough time to read through all the documents written by Senator Amidala before her final day, but Karrde had gotten through some proposals and skimmed others. That museum display went on about her actions on Naboo and the Trade Federation crisis, it left out certain key details. Using that tourist trash as a primary information source had been a mistake on his part.

The one person in that awful dome at the center of the galaxy who actually cared about the people struggling beneath it, and she was dead. Yet her handmaidens all kept going, some with more difficulty than others, as the Empire erupted out from the heart of the Republic.

Coruscant, the shining gem of civilization, marvel of engineering, seat of power for all of galactic society, Republic or Empire. That was what the rest of the galaxy was supposed to think.

In reality it was an endless, ugly expanse of metal stinking of pollution and putrescence, any beauty the planet once had crushed under the urban sprawl, any beauty which could be seen from its surface blocked out as the eyesore lighting shined so brightly it obscured the stars. Assuming you weren’t so far down the entire sky was blocked by skyscrapers.

That disgusting planet deserved whatever it got, especially all the senators living on the top. Imperial control would tighten around them sooner than they realized.

_Not my problem._

It was little wonder Naboo hadn’t been helped by Coruscant. That would’ve required a basic level of competence from those in power. Still, these pacifists sure knew how to put up a fight. For themselves, or for the sake of others.

_They’re not better people than me,_ he told himself as he stared up out of the cabin window at the edge of Theed, waterfalls pouring down beneath the buildings.

_Yes they are, and that’s what’s eating at you._

Allying with Lassa Rhayme had never had this problem. Didn't have to put up with people poking at his conscience. He supplied her with schedules and cargo manifests of rivals, she didn’t attack any of his smuggler ships, and she went after targets of his choosing, crippling the competition. Bonding over mutual disdain for Hondo Ohnaka didn’t hurt, either. The pirate queen understood the nature and benefits of their arrangement perfectly, he never had to deal with this condescension from people working to do _exactly what he did_. Barriss Offee was a cunning strategist, and had no issues working with him, unlike Tano.

Karrde had never really believed himself to be a good person. That was never the goal. Getting into smuggling, making money, it had been a matter of survival in a galaxy that clearly did not care at all whether he lived or died or whether he’d done anything good.

At some point that had changed, and it happened without him even noticing.

There was no need for him to be doing any of this, moving contraband around, selling secret information. None. He had money now. Ludicrous quantities of it. If he wanted to, he could slip away to some distant world and live a life of luxury. Or simply get a normal job.

_What would I even do?_ he wondered to himself. Shipping seemed like the easiest transition, and the most relevant use of his skills. But hardly the greatest use of them. Karrde was currently one of the lieutenants to a criminal whose power rivaled the Hutt Council, he hadn’t risen to that position so rapidly just so he could quit and become a data pusher.

As it was, his profession was fulfilling. He enjoyed it, and he was exceptionally good at it. Most people didn’t find that level of satisfaction in their jobs, and he wasn’t eager to let it go.

_You could join the Rebellion, fight for a worthy cause while putting your skills to the test as an intelligence officer_, a voice in his head told him, and it sounded an awful lot like Offee’s.

The fall of the Empire was something he’d like to see happen, but not a goal he was willing to fully commit to. Asking his employees to die for a political movement? Absolutely not. He’d help the Rebels, but he was getting paid and he was not going to lay down his life for them.

_About what I expected from someone like you,_ said another, more contemptuous voice.

_Oh, shut up, Tano,_ he said back. No need to be polite when it was all in his head.

Fighting the Empire directly was also unappealing because of who would end up dead by his actions. It wasn’t the cruel, oppressive minds behind the New Order who were marched out in stormtrooper armor to absorb blaster fire. At best, you end up killing some idiot who believed the propaganda.

It still didn’t matter. The Rebellion was receiving aid through him. Those expendable soldiers would die as a consequence of his actions regardless.

_There are always people dying. Focus on not becoming one of them._

The articles in the Theed Chronicle he’d taken a look at reported on the changes the new government was making to the allocation of funds. It was generally the same across the planet, institutions being cut in order to help pay for the Empire’s increasing military buildup. Education, housing, the arts, medical cares they would all be receiving less than they had the previous year. Sabé was likely reading about it all as well and knew what it meant.

_There is no neutral area between ‘cares for sick children’ and ‘takes medicine away from sick children’. What, you want to fall into the category of ‘does not help children after other people took their medicine’? What a nuanced person you are! Are you proud of yourself for not getting involved?_

Wasn’t he doing the right things, though? He’d found the lost _Katana_ Fleet, a useable naval force of 200 _Dreadnought_-Class cruisers, and he was selling them exclusively to the nascent Rebellion, one at a time, when he could become impossibly rich overnight giving them all to the Empire. He’d provided Tano and Offee valuable information in their fight against the inquisitors. He was protecting Leia from the Empire. He was helping Sabé make fools of Palpatine’s supporters on Naboo.

All for massive paydays, of course, or in the final case the expectation of such later on. But that didn’t change his contributions. They needed resources and information. He supplied them. That was the arrangement. The prices were fair. They all got what they wanted.

_Other people are selfish._

_I am also selfish._

_Why can’t we all be selfish as a team?_

The responsibility of people with power was to assist those who lacked it, that's what Naberrie believed. All things he’d heard before, but not really believed because too frequently he noticed the people saying those words didn’t abide by them. Other times, by malice or inaction, they helped cause the problems they professed to be fighting.

There was something about Naberrie that was different, a sincerity throughout her work that kept him from latching onto some excuse to ignore her as another hypocrite. Sapient rights, funding to assist those trapped in poverty, infrastructure development, funding for new scientific research initiatives. It was all there, and none of the usual questionable deals or payments required. Even the senators touted as exemplary had their factions and grudges and benefactors. Amidala did not. The worst that could be said was how she knew to exploit other people’s selfishness to get them to act the way she wanted. Karrde was familiar with the benefits of cooperation and extreme long-term thinking, and Naberrie was a superior example of his own methods, but he didn’t understand her.

There were some private notes in the documents which Sabé must not have minded him seeing, dated from more than a year ago. This was how Naberrie really felt. They were immersed in sincerity and kindness and it was so bubblingly idealistic, but it was so thoroughly comprehensive the plans could've worked, and also there was this weirdly warm, relaxed feeling building in his chest that he didn't recognize.

_What made you so much better than the rest of them?_ he wondered as he scrolled through news articles about Amidala.

Several other tabs on his screen opened as Karrde accessed the various bank accounts he had spread throughout the galaxy. Not a single one of them displayed any fewer than six digits. He wasn’t a little kid reading stolen holobooks about cunning spies and criminal masterminds, dreaming of the day he’d see the galaxy. He was powerful now. More powerful than he’d ever imagined, even if he didn’t look it, walking around in bargain clothes he’d owned and been patching up since he was still growing. Despite trying to blot out the thought, his brain kept factoring the cost of that food he’d bought for everyone, plus a generous tip, into his no-longer-extant weekly meal budget.

In the time he spent blankly staring at the accounts, deep in thought, one of them jumped up from seven to eight digits. Finally sold all those kyber crystals.

Reading through more of her words, it became apparent to Karrde that he may have been wrong about how the galaxy worked. The problem wasn’t that good people didn’t really exist. The problem was they were being intentionally targeted for removal.

_There’s no complex trick, no unique power. She genuinely gave a damn, and she’s dead._

Unexpectedly, Karrde felt an odd aching in his chest, desolate at the situation, and it took him a moment to recognize it was moderate grief. Been a while since he'd felt that.

_Sabé, I think I understand you a little better now._

More and more articles discussing social and economic programs, mostly how they’re being defunded to contribute more to the Empire’s military buildup and the ongoing pacification of former CIS territory and unclaimed areas of the Outer Rim. There was only so much that the new government could change in such short a time, and as Karrde looked at some of the numbers, the problem was... manageable. For someone as powerful as him.

_I really hope I don’t regret this..._

* * *

Everything was ready for tomorrow. They all knew what they needed to do. No one would expect what would happen.

Sabé sat alone in the dimly lit safehouse, the only light emitted from a glowlamp, there being no windows.

She’d been saving a bottle of wine to celebrate something, but hadn’t thought of a reason in a long time. The initial thought was to share it with Padmé when the Clone Wars finally ended. Recently, she'd thought to uncork it tomorrow after a successful mission. That wasn’t really worth celebrating, though. No matter what happened tomorrow, she was a failure as a bodyguard, a liar who couldn’t bring herself to trust her closest friends or return the kindness of people who treated her like family, and would likely be marked a criminal for sabotaging a government led by the man who’d trained her.

Assuming everything went perfectly, Padmé would still be gone.

There wasn’t a glass to be found anywhere in the safehouse, all the drinks in the rations being bottled.

It didn’t matter, she wouldn’t need a glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The undercover names they use were simply mixed up names of non-Star Wars characters that came to mind when I thought of them. 
> 
> Heltziabe: Elizabeth Swann, because Sabé is played by Keira Knightly. I really wish they would get her to reprise the role in something, ANYTHING, she's a well-known actress it can't possibly be this hard to get her for a Forces of Destiny or the new Clone Wars season or something. She'd be a great draw for audiences even if they don't like Star Wars in general or the prequel trilogy specifically. Or go ahead and recast the role, just give Sabé more to do, I came up with multiple ways to involve her, nothing is stopping you DAVE. 
> 
> Arivient: Lord Vetinari, because Karrde increasingly reminds me of him the more Discworld I read. Sense of humor aside, Vetinari and Karrde have the same MO of exploiting selfishness to encourage cooperation and being too good at their jobs to ignore or eliminate, though they don't look the same. I've seen fancasts for Karrde such as Jason Momoa (no one that tall with eyebrows that badass could convincingly play someone inconspicuous) and Benicio del Toro, but it's difficult to settle on an actor, especially because illustrators can't agree on what the hell Karrde looks like. I like the idea of Rami Malek because he looks disarmingly friendly and speaks in a really chill voice, yet for some reason people keep saying his eyes are haunting. Also, "Rami Malek" sounds like an alias Karrde would come up with for himself.
> 
> Karrde's concerns about how the ion pulse works are my exact thought process upon reading about the pulse in Queen's Shadow and then watching it get used in a Battlefront II cutscene. I _really_ don't think that's a good design, but I'll roll with it.


	4. Raining on the Parade

Empire Day had finally arrived, and even as Naboo’s sun had just finished rising, Karrde knew something was off.

Sabé was not at her ship, nor did her friends know where she was. That alone was enough of a warning sign that Karrde was prepared to flee the planet immediately in case she’d somehow been discovered and captured. But if she had been, then her ship would’ve been the perfect place to trap her allies, and it was undisturbed. No, the plan hadn’t fallen apart quite yet.

If something really had happened to Sabé and he bailed, he’d be assumed responsible and end up on the handmaidens’ hit lists. If Sabé was fine and her plan was in jeopardy because he bailed, he’d end up on _her_ hit list. Better to see this through all the way.

Waiting under Dormé and Eirtaé’s watchful and presumably suspecting eyes while Moteé investigated elsewhere, he and Vrask remained on their best behavior until they were eventually escorted to Sabé’s safehouse, where the handmaidens worriedly tried to get up to the second floor.

“She’s not opening the door, and it can’t be locked from the outside, she must be in there,” Moteé said, frantically knocking once again on the security door to the second level of the safehouse. “Sabé, we need to get ready!”

“This whole place is sound-proofed, right?” asked Karrde.

“Yes. One could drop a bomb in here and the surrounding apartments would only hear a faint thump,” said Eirtaé.

A quick glance was exchanged between Karrde and Vrask, the latter of whom lifted Moteé and set her a few steps down and out of the way, then swiftly broke through the door with the same level of difficulty as an ordinary person walking into a stiff breeze.

“Rise and shine, time to stick it to the Empire!” he sung as they all walked across the fallen door and into the room as Sabé groggily woke up and dug herself out from under a pile of blankets taken from half of the bunks, wearing her clothes from yesterday. “What the heck have you- Oh, no,” he groaned as his foot accidentally kicked an empty glass bottle.

“I’m fine,” Sabé murmured, clutching her aching head as the other handmaidens rushed to her side.

“Eirtaé, you can take her place, correct?” asked Moteé. “I’m needed to monitor and disrupt communications and do any slicing, Dormé has to be in the audience-”

“I SAID I’M FINE,” Sabé said as she got into a sitting position on the side of the bed, looking nauseated and bitter. “I’m all fine, I’m perfectly fine now, thank you... How are you?”

For some odd reason, the other handmaidens did not find that reassuring.

“Help her get cleaned up, then we’ll see how she’s feeling afterwards,” said Eirtaé as Moteé and Dormé walked Sabé towards the refresher and Karrde knelt down to check the empty bottle. That volume, at that alcohol content, was going to make for a very rough morning.

“Have you ever seen her like this?” asked Karrde, who was a little stunned at the sight of the perfect, deadly, unflappable bodyguard recovering from a hangover. It had been obvious she wasn’t in great shape emotionally, but this was an unexpected development.

“_Never_,” Eirtaé said, looking even more bewildered than he felt. “I’ve never seen her even finish a glass of wine, much less drink herself into a stupor the night before a mission of her own devising. We have to alter our plans. Dormé and Moteé will be occupied- I need hair dye,” she said, running down the steps to rummage through their supplies looking for something to change her blonde hair so she could impersonate the officer in Sabé’s place, cursing to herself that she should’ve done this sooner as a contingency. Sabé being in this state was totally unthinkable to her.

“We still have almost four hours before the opening speech, that’s enough time for someone as tough as her to sober up,” Karrde said calmly. Eirtaé came back with the dye anyway and wasn’t eager to let Sabé continue on like this.

“Give your friend a chance,” Vrask said as she leaned against the wall next to the door she’d broken.

After a quick shower and some bizarre noises which Karrde presumed- or hoped- was puking, Sabé groggily emerged from the refresher with Moteé and Dormé, walked over to her bunk, and pulled a syringe out of a nearby case. No telling what the liquid inside it was, except whatever was in there glowed bright purple.

Before anyone could stop her, Sabé injected it into her neck.

Immediately, she took a very deep, sharp inhale, her eyes went wide, and she was significantly more alert.

“What time is it?” Sabé asked, her hangover cure taking effect as she pulled out her uniform and went back into the refresher to change.

“We have two and a half hours until the moff’s speech,” Dormé said, and Sabé had barely even closed the door behind her before stepping back out again in her disguise.

“Where’s your uniform?” Sabé finally asked Karrde.

“Wearing it,” Karrde replied, removing the disguise matrix from his chest as the civilian appearance he’d walked over in flickered away and revealed the real imperial uniform beneath. “Dormé, if you'd be so kind as to put the finishing touches on our disguises...”

* * *

Throughout Theed, decorations were hung in celebration, triumphant music was playing, and the crowds of citzens wore tepid expressions as they gathered in the palace plaza.

Queen Apailana, or far more likely one of her own handmaidens posing as her, sat behind Moff Panaka with her coterie clad in bright blue, green, and yellow, standing out amidst the comparatively drab decorations.

Behind the queen stood a line of Royal Security Force officers their new imperialized uniforms, led by Typho. The structure and shape of the uniform remained unchanged, but the burgundy and dark blue had been replaced with grey and black, making the queen stand out even more prominently.

Behind them stood a line of stormtroopers.

The imperial march played over speakers, its echoing tune covering up the lack of enthusiasm from much of the populace. The vast majority of the attendees were humans, though a few Gungans had arrived as well. Fewer than had normally occupied Theed immediately prior to the rise of the Empire.

Young children, all of them born after the Trade Federation invasion of fourteen years prior, were staring in amazement at the walkers and fighter tanks. How times changed.

Dormé looked up from the front row at Panaka, clad in the finest outfit of Senator Amidala, impeccably made up to look like her, a ghost come to haunt him.

Mariek, his ex-wife, was sitting next to her. Watching him. Smiling. Judging.

“Thank you so much for the invitation, Dormé,” Mariek said. “I doubt I would’ve bothered to come had you not contacted me. I’m sorry I didn’t receive Sabé’s missive in time to help more.”

“How could you think of missing out on a day like this?” Dormé said with a smile.

Moff Panaka stood at the top of the stairs before the palace, and he saw them. Oh, he definitely saw them. He likely assumed this simple taunt to be the limit of their protest, and Dormé was content to let him believe that. The handmaiden hoped Sabé succeeded soon. She’d very much prefer not to hear a word from that man.

“How are Sabé and the others?” asked Mariek.

“Eirtaé and Moteé are living happily. Sabé is, well, it’s almost the anniversary.”

“I understand,” said Mariek. “I miss Padmé often.”

“As do we all, save for Sabé,” Dormé replied worriedly as Mariek raised an eyebrow. “Sabé misses her always.”

* * *

The pair of prospective saboteurs covered their imperial uniforms with holograms, not wanting anyone to spot a pair of officers and get them involved in something that would disrupt their timetable. The walk towards the palace, blending in with the crowd, gave Sabé time to think in spite of the throbbing in her head.

The walkers, fighter tanks, and rows of stormtroopers were currently filing into the city, too far away for her to see it herself, but she'd witnessed a similar scene before.

“You really okay to do this?” Karrde asked as he delicately smoothed out his fake mustache.

“I am. Serving Padmé has prepared me to face greater dangers than this with far worse headaches,” Sabé replied. The truth was she felt like someone had beaten her skull in with a lemon wrapped around a brick, her fingers were shaking, and she could smell the color blue. None of which was going to stop her from following through on her plan, as she remained alert and focused enough to get the job done.

“What did you inject yourself with, anyway?”

“A combination of hyper-battle stimulant and extract from a genetically modified alga called violet glie. My own personal concoction which will keep me functional for the next several hours and afterwards leave me in far worse condition than when I began,” explained Sabé. “Eirtaé works with such organisms for agricultural purposes, she could explain the biology better.”

_I mixed a depressant and a stimulant. That means they'll cancel each other out. It won't be a problem,_ she lied to herself, understanding the effects of intoxicants too well to believe that simplistic reasoning.

_The coming afternoon is going to hit me like a falling bulk freighter._

Use of glie venom was a part of standard handmaiden training, and Sabé was also carrying a dart shooter smaller than her finger which contained several green glie darts in case she needed to kill some of the imperial personnel. Or to kill Karrde in the event it turned out this was an elaborate trap he’d concocted to trap her all along. It paid to be thorough.

“For a bunch of hardcore pacifists, you Naboo are certainly an intense bunch,” noted Karrde as he closely, perhaps even fondly, examined many of the buildings as they walked.

Bringing up his view of her culture brought to mind what Sabé had deduced of his. The way he'd avoided the topic made her all the more determined to know more, and if all went well in the next hour it could be some time before she'd get the chance to ask directly again.

If she was to believe Karrde, his homeworld wasn’t an impoverished planet from the Outer Rim, but somewhere in the Republic. And growing up there had left an unflattering opinion of its government. Worlds were filtered from her mind as the logical extensions of Karrde’s vague statements became clear enough for her to hazard a guess.

“You’re from Coruscant, aren’t you?” Sabé realized, though Karrde’s face remained impassive. “The lower levels?”

Rather than try dodging the question, Karrde quickly replied back with a Coruscanti accent, “Well, of course I am. Did I forget to tell you? Could’ve sworn I mentioned that...”

In her visits to Padmé during her time as senator, Sabé had become aware of the rampant poverty and toxic conditions billions of people lived in on the densely populated galactic capital. Keeping a low profile with Tonra and monitoring the political situation had given Sabé more up-close experience with the depths of the city, though she'd still never seen the worst that planet had to offer.

“There were so many people Padmé wanted to help throughout the galaxy, so many injustices she wanted to correct-”

“I’m sure she would have, but focus on what you’re trying to do _now_,” Karrde said sympathetically, back in his preferred voice.

Quietly walking through the city, putting more distance between themselves and the lines of civilians on their way to Panaka's speech, the two found the secluded spot between two buildings to remove and hide their holographic matrices within one of Sabé's hidden supply caches, another resource Panaka didn't know about. It was unwise to remain in their current disguises any longer, as they were separated from the palace by one canal, and as they got closer to the hangar they strayed further from the last bridge over it, making the presence of wandering civilians more suspicious.

Now dressed as low-ranking imperial officers, with real physical uniforms, Sabé and Karrde moved in perfect unison towards their objective, no looking around confusedly, no arguing over which route they should take.

First, they entered through the primary entrance of the hangar complex, displaying their identification so their presence would be recorded. Not the most important aspect of the infiltration, but one Sabé wished to include for the purpose of sowing more confusion in the aftermath as Panaka tried to understand what had happened by giving him two options: either the real officers had betrayed him, or forged identification cards could be obtained so easily that anyone could get in.

During an infiltration, confidence went a long way in convincing targets than one belonged among them. Sabé and Karrde were both extremely confident, in their skills and their general superiority over the imperial personnel they were walking amongst as they went down underneath the canal and up into the immense marble halls of the royal palace. Matching the typical walking pace, postures, and blank expressions of everyone else, their eyes were forward, no need to look around. They’d already seen everything, just like everyone here had. They worked here. They belonged. Their souls were crushed by daily inanity like everyone else’s.

The ion pulse’s emitter had been constructed beneath the palace steps, while the control station for it was located in the tower immediately behind the green central dome, the second-tallest tower in the whole structure and the one most defensible from a ground attack, combined with extensive shielding.

As they ascended the spiraling stone staircase and approached the door, Sabé's vision began blacking out, and she smacked her face a few times. This did little, because she could not feel her face. She reflected that she had only ever used the violet glie serum in emergencies when she needed to remain alert for prolonged periods, but was otherwise healthy, and she had no idea what mixing it with alcohol was going to do to her.

"Whoa, hey, _don't do that_," Karrde hissed quietly to get her to stop hitting herself. "That'll leave bruises or redness in your face. Stub your foot or something."

Sabé took the advice and purposefully hit her shins against the corner of the next stair step. It hurt horrendously. Good.

Entering the security control room at the top of the tower, Sabé found herself in a spacious room immediately beneath the tower’s dome consisting of eight equally spaced stations with a single officer working at them and a captain overseeing everything. At the far side of the room was the control console for the ion pulse.

As she approached the RNSF Captain in charge, Sabé pressed her comm, signaling the rest of the group they were in position, and they should proceed with their disruption of imperial communications.

_Here we go_.

* * *

Captain Marcom stared down from the tower at the crowd of people gathered before the palace, the central dome of the building obscuring the view of Moff Panaka, Queen Apailana, and their guards. Display readouts were arranged on the console in front of him, monitoring communications from the various squads distributed throughout the city, some searching for explosives, some on patrol, various agents in civilian clothing dispersed into the crowds to discretely watch for troublemakers.

When he turned around to update his subordinates, the door to the command room opened and a pair of low-ranking imperial officers brusquely approached him. Heltziabe and Arivient, he recognized them from briefings for the security patrols as the RNSF and imperial garrison coordinated security arrangements to protect the city, its populace, and all imperial equipment. Turning his attention to the unexpected and unsummoned imperials, he asked why they were here, and suppressed displaying his fear when they explained.

“Seismic charges?” the captain said under his breath, worriedly considering how items with that much baradium could’ve gotten inside the city without being detected. "Why did you not signal me or the other security forces?"

“Our communications were jammed, sir,” explained Arivient.

“Jammed? We haven’t experienced any loss of communication,” Marcom said, gesturing to his console in time to notice the transponder signals indicating stable connections to the various squads and agents spread throughout Theed were being cut off.

“If communications are being jammed, then whoever placed the explosives has been monitoring RNSF chatter. These are not timed explosives, they are waiting for a particular moment,” Heltziabe hissed as she noticed the change in the readouts as well, handing over a pad showing detailed sensor scans of two seismic charges along the patrol routes of the two squads.

Captain Marcom was alarmed at the realization of the threat posed. “Does the Moff know?”

“Given the situation, we chose to come here immediately. If we move the moff out of sight now, whoever’s watching might simply decide to set off the bombs immediately,” objected Heltziabe, and she was absolutely right. One seismic charge would be devastating in the best case, but with the palace situated on a cliffside, the tremor it would induce could send the entire structure down the waterfall. If they wanted to get through this, the needed to disable the bombs simultaneously. 

"Are you all right, Sergeant?" asked Marcom, as he noticed how profusely Heltziabe was sweating.

"Sir, we pushed ourselves hard to get here on foot," explained Arivient, who was taking a few deep breaths himself.

“Captain, we must use the ion pulse, that's one reason we came here,” Heltziabe said gravely. “It’s the only way we can definitively disable all the bombs and keep everyone alive.”

“The ion pulse? That will also knock out the entire parade!” objected the captain.

“You’re concerned about a _parade_? Are you mad?! A single seismic charge could shatter half the city’s foundation, and who knows how many of them there actually are!” Arivient scoffed. Such insubordination normally wouldn’t go without reprimand, but this was an emergency. “At least the rubble will pose little obstacle for our fighter tanks!”

“We should be so lucky. If those charges go off, they’ll easily take out the parade,” warned Heltziabe. “The only question is if we allow the entire city to be destroyed with them.”

Arivient spoke up again, all eyes on Marcom, “Sir, the charges could be triggered at any moment, we need to act _now_. What are your orders?”

"Your squads were able to find the charges, have they been disabled?" asked Marcom.

"They were working to do so when we left, but they remained active, and we don't know if others are hidden elsewhere in the city," said Heltziabe, as she and Arivient offered their comms to him. "Our squads changed the frequencies on out communicators, but we only have access to our own groups, no one else."

* * *

Two of the comm jammers were immediately outside the safehouse’s shielding and blanketing a large portion of the residential areas, ready to be brought inside once the pulse triggered. A third was located on the _Drifting Sun_, its position beneath Theed's cliffs putting it opposite the safehouse while still in relatively close proximity to the palace.

The fourth jammer was strapped to Dormé’s right calf, hidden beneath her bright blue skirt.

Moteé was listening in on their communications and keeping her finger on the comm jammer controls while Eirtaé and Vrask were using a voice modulation program to create pastiches of the different officers’ voices to broadcast to the security station.

"This is Captain Marcom," a voice came through one of the comms they had lined up. "What is your status?"

“Captain Marcom, we’ve located an explosive device!” Eirtaé’s voice was transmitted to Sabé’s communicator, Moteé's computer filtering her voice so that any recordings made would sound like a slightly-staticky version of a member of the real Heltziabe's group. “A seismic charge, primary technician is in the process of diffusing it currently.”

The handmaiden gave an enthusiastic thumbs up to Moteé and Vrask, though the latter did not technically have thumbs but two small clawed fingers on the sides of one big clawed finger, but the Trandoshan attempted to return the gesture regardless.

* * *

“Can confirm charge in Sector 4, continuing search,” said the ‘lieutenant’ from 'Arivient's' squad, though with the slightly gravely tone perceptible through the voice filtering, Sabé was certain that was Vrask.

“We must send out a warning to everyone, evacuate the area,” said Marcom.

“With our jammed or otherwise compromised communications?” Sabé said, not quite sarcastically enough to be disrespectful, but still driving home the point. “And giving whoever may be listening adequate time to detonate those charges before the first fighter tank can even turn around?”

"I understand that," Marcom said in a restrained hiss, as he stared out the window and tried to think, keeping his voice down even though they were drawing attention from surrounding personnel.

Thinking wasn't something Sabé intended to let him do.

"Sir, Moff Panaka's speech will begin at any moment, and that is almost certainly the opportunity these saboteurs are waiting for. Seismic charges are triggered electronically, not chemically, making the ion pulse the best chance at disabling them all," she said, and it took all of her control not to smile gleefully as she could see how well the pressure she was laying on was working.

Believing time was short, Marcom scowled as he initiated the charging sequence for the ion pulse, and once the pulse was armed and ready Sabé took a deep breath as he pressed the button, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as she felt the static electricity in the air.

* * *

Precisely on the hour, Moff Panaka approached the podium, hundreds of Naboo citizens watching him and their conversations turning to respectful silence as he made his opening statements.

"Today, we celebrate-" Panaka stopped as quickly as he'd begun, turning around to see the buildup of ions around the entrance of the palace while RNSF guards and stormtroopers ran to surround and protect him when the pulse erupted outwards.

Feedback coming through the microphone fell silent as the speakers shorted out. Many people let out screams, as regardless of whether they knew the pulse was harmless to living matter or not, watching a crackling, violet wave of ions approach would be worrying to just about anyone. Once it washed over them and everyone found themselves unharmed, the fear subsided somewhat, but crowds were still running for their homes.

Dormé moved with the flow of the crowd. Panaka undoubtedly suspected she had something to do with this given the timing, but he would have all the guards searching for the wrong face. Thanks to the holographic disguise matrix she pulled out of its shielded casing, getting a new face and outfit to slip in with the crowd became trivially simple.

Putting the shorted-out comm jammer she’d been wearing back in the matrix’s place, silently bidding Mariek farewell, Dormé transformed into a new person and headed to the rendezvous point.

* * *

The ion pulse emanated outward, disabling the parade of walkers and seriously disrupting the inner workings of stormtroopers helmets. Even from this distance, the sound of the fighter tanks falling a meter and hitting the ground as their repulsors failed could be heard from the tower. Sabé watched with great satisfaction as the army fell apart, almost forgetting she was supposed to appear horrified as befitting an imperial officer.

If only she’d been able to render the droid armies of the Trade Federation helpless with such ease, and the only part of this plan she regretted was that she couldn't come up with a deception which would allow her to activate the pulse herself.

The entire room breathed a sigh of relief as the pulse concluded, and no explosions occurred.

“You did the right thing, Capatin,” Sabé said reassuringly as she took back her comm and her datapad. The act had worked flawlessly. “I believe you’ve saved many lives today. I’m sure the Naboo will be quite grateful to the Empire.”

“We should get out there to check in with our squads and ensure the charges are indeed disabled,” Karrde suggested to the captain as he took a step towards the exit. “Heltziabe and I will also distribute undamaged communicators to any personnel we come across to reestablish contact.”

“Yes. Very good,” said the captain, despondent and wondering if he'd made the best decision. Best to leave before he had any thoughts of blaming the lower-ranking imperials. 

With that, the pair quickly left the room, heading back down the twisting staircase towards the secret passageway before Panaka could rally his people and head up the second section of stairs to the palace.

“Smooth like a braneese shark,” Karrde said, right before Sabé stumbled forward and almost fell down the last few steps when Karrde grabbed her neck collar.

"Thank you," Sabé grudgingly said as she leaned on Karrde and they made their way down the stairs, completely cognizant of everything as her body refused to cooperate with her.

As the plan neared success, Sabé felt a surge of excitement as she and Karrde headed towards the secret passageway which would take them to the secret entrance outside the hangar.

When she gripped the slightly-mismatched brick and pulled back the fake wall, the escape route she’d chosen was blocked off with permacrete, the smooth grey standing out imposingly against the tan stone and marble floors.

“Kraytspit,” muttered Karrde.

“FUCK,” said Sabé. Taking her arm off of her accomplice's shoulder, Sabé ignored her faltering sense of balance and walked through muscle memory back towards the main corridor of the level.

Panaka had taken security changes in a different direction than she’d anticipated, and successfully kept these ones hidden despite her spying. He’d cut off potential escape routes, indicating a preference to commit to defending the palace rather than retreat.

Or an intent to make escaping the palace more difficult for the queen.

There’d be time to contemplate the implications later. Maybe not all of the exits were sealed off, but she didn’t know which ones were, and there wasn’t enough time to take guesses. There were a few other options Sabé could think of, none of them good. Steal two of the starfighters in the hangar bay, but that would draw too much attention. Hide in one of the secret passages connecting rooms of the palace, Panaka knew all of them and they’d be found eventually. Just like he knew all the hidden exits out.

If they were going to get out, she had to figure something completely new, and quick.

Panaka would figure the source of the disruption was the pulse control room, and would take those stormtroopers out front inside. Communications were down everywhere outside the palace, so he wouldn’t be able to signal a complete lockdown. With the pulse triggered, any security at the other exits would likely assume some kind of attack was coming rather than an act of sabotage and hold position, meaning the troopers would only be coming in from the front entrance.

“Follow me,” she said as they quickly walked back the direction they came from, down the main passage, beneath the canal, and on towards the hangar and plasma generator complex.

Most of the stormtroopers would be coming from behind them after entering through the front of the palace where Panaka had been delivering his speech, and even if he sent runners to check other entrances, there’s no quick way to get across the canal to the hangar/generator building except through the main underground passage. They could still get out through there if they kept moving. Once at the hangar, could they get past the guards outside? If there was even one operational speeder somewhere from that parade, the troopers outside could be reached and told to keep everyone inside. Maybe a particularly courageous guard would try swimming the canal to get there in time and cut the intruders off.

"I have an idea. Look for a rope, or cable, anything," Sabé said as they walked down the now-empty halls, most of the people in this building having gone to the hangar, expecting some kind of attack.

“Don’t your security forces have ascension guns?” Karrde as he tried to think of where they’d get the cable Sabé wanted.

“Yes, but we can’t get to a security station and steal two without being noticed,” Sabé said, heading into the hangar and looking around as they ducked behind the yellow and chrome starfighters, standing up straight in the crevices of the storages areas while trying not to be spotted without looking like they were trying not to be spotted as a quartet of stormtroopers came through the main entrance. 

“What about the fighters?” Karrde asked, climbing up a stepladder and rummaging around in an open cockpit. The increased agitation worked in their favor now, as everyone assumed an attack had taken place, not sabotage, and were less likely to question people in friendly uniforms reaching for weapons. “Shouldn’t they have survival kits with the guns?”

A second later, he excitedly pulled out an ascension gun, the grappling hook loaded and ready.

“Perfect,” Sabé said, eagerly climbing up to another fighter and raiding its survival kit for her own weapon and pointing to parts of it as they briskly walked back to the generator room. “Turn this knob to toggle from blaster to grapple. Trigger to fire, press this switch to release.”

“Got it.”

Sabé ducked around a corner through a side door into the generator room, rather than use the attention-drawing main door, Karrde smoothly following her lead.

After staring down into the vast emptiness below, Sabé felt a sudden retching in her stomach, got a grip on a section of the newly under-construction handrails, leaned over the side, and vomited up what little food her stomach held down into the depths of the planet, and brought back some embarrassing memories in the process.

“Better?” asked Karrde.

“Yes,” she said, dabbing her mouth with a handkerchief she’d brought out of an expectation that might happen while picking up the pace. Feeling disgusted by herself could wait until they were in the clear.

“What were you thinking last night?”

“I wasn’t. Now _keep moving,_” she said, holding onto the handrails to compensate for her wobbling legs.

The two once again walked down the central catwalk towards Sabé’s intended destination, the red glow of the laser gates closing in front of them. The prospect of shooting the generators ahead of them was tempting, but the requirement remained that no trace of their presence be left.

Karrde’s shoulders slumped as he realized what she was planning. “We’re going into the pit, aren’t we?”

“We are going into the pit.”

“What’s in that pit, anyway?”

“It’s a thermal port that extends down into the generator’s cooling water intake system.”

“Ah. Doesn’t sound... _too_ bad,” Karrde said with cautious hope, confidently cracking his neck, ripping off his fake mustache and dropping it into the darkness below. “Let’s do it.”

The two clung to opposite sides of the hallway's opening, trying not to be visible in case someone walked in. Once those shields turned off, they both stopped trying to appear inconspicuous and bolted, narrowly making it through before the next reactivation, Sabé especially needing a moment to make the room stop spinning around her.

“Since you just HAD to know where I come from, you want to know something I’ve always been terrified of, growing up on that damned ecumenopolis?” Karrde said angrily as they stood at the edges of the circular opening.

“Is it plummeting helplessly into a dark, metal-walled abyss?”

“YES.”

Aiming their ascension guns, they hooked themselves to the ceiling, and began their slow descent. The guns only had thirty meters of cable in them, lowering the trespassers into complete darkness. Distantly, Sabé could hear the doors to the generator room open as stormtrooper squads searched for anyone to round up.

“Release the hooks on three,” ordered Sabé. “One, two, THREE.”

The two dropped, landed hard despite reducing the distance to the water below, and were submerged in a pool of filtered water extracted from Theed’s canals, warmed by the generators it flowed to and from. Their grappling hooks impacted the water above them moments before they surfaced, dimly lit by the small flashlight attached to Sabé’s pistol.

“Oh, I am definitely keeping this thing. I’m not even upset anymore, it was worth it for this,” Karrde said happily while holding his new ascension gun, water lightly spraying off as the cable rewound, and he examined the grimy channel. “So this is where you were planning to dump my body when we met, huh?”

“I’d never intended to kill you. Threaten you into spilling your secrets, absolutely,” replied Sabé as they awkwardly swam towards a walkway to the side of the waterway in their wet uniforms. “The nearest exist should be around the corner.”

“We don’t want the closest one, we want one that’ll take us back to where we left our disguise matrices,” Karrde said as he pressed water out of his hair. “Running around in soggy imperial uniforms will get us spotted, and we can’t leave those matrices lying around.”

“I know the way,” Sabé said, recalling a mental map of the entire aqueduct system and all its access points.

The exit to the surface was a hidden one near the spot they went in, surrounded by cover. Such entrances near the palace were intended as potential escape routes, and it seemed Panaka hadn’t cut off all those lifelines.

Outside the entrance, the two grabbed the disguise matrices, their imperial uniforms vanishing under generic Naboo garb. The holograms couldn’t hide how their seemingly dry clothes were dripping water behind them, but it was a risk they would have to take as they headed through the city, distantly spotting the results of their efforts through the gaps between buildings: eighteen collapsed AT-RTs, thirty fallen fighter tanks, countless short-circuited blaster rifles which had been abandoned as dead weight, and one utterly ruined celebration all of Naboo would be talking about on this day every single year. The smell of ozone from the ionized wave filled the air as imperial personnel scrambled to figure out what happened.

“Happy Empire Day,” Karrde said.

“Happy Empire Day!” Sabé replied happily.

* * *

Beyond the outer perimeter of Theed, lower in elevation and downstream from the city’s waterfalls, two nondescript ships lay hidden among giant trees on a small island in the middle of an enormous lake, proximity to a nearby underwater Gungan town camouflaging the ships to long-range sensors beneath the energy emissions and metal content.

Sabé found herself in the embrace of her three friends as they celebrated their accomplishment.

Then she spent eight hours tossing and turning in her bunk because she was still fighting a hangover and the medically unsound mixture she’d put in her system began to wear off, followed by another ten hours of sleep and a lot of soup. Once she finally felt strong enough to get up and about again, she snuck out of the shuttle and walked around the foggy island, circling around for an hour until she was back at the ships, with Karrde sitting on one of the larger rocks, close to the shore but still concealed in the foliage, staring out at the dim lights of the city kilometers in the distance as dawn began to break.

The smuggler was simply dressed, wearing a nondescript deep red jacket, black pants and boots. No Naboo clothing, no uniform, this was the first time Karrde had been without some manner of disguise in any of their meetings.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“A little bit,” she replied.

“There’s something I thought might put a nice ending on this little excursion,” he said, handing over a pad with a headline from the Theed Chronicler. There hadn’t been any time to read the morning news.

_‘Education Fund Receives Anonymous Donation of Five Million Credits’?_ she read, stunned by the article. Checking other news sources, it turned out this was one of many massive, anonymous donations received by Naboo’s social institutions.

“Before you start coming up with reasons to moan and complain, rest assured that was all money from my non-morally questionable enterprises. And this is a _one-time thing_,” Karrde said adamantly. “I’m rich but not _that_ rich. Can’t go throwing around this kind of money at every little problem.”

“Little problems like making sure children receive an education?” asked Sabé.

“Yes,” Karrde replied bluntly.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t have rather put those credits towards your home planet?”

“Coruscant has a population hundreds of times larger and its problems are thousands of times worse. I’m sticking to somewhere I can actually make a dent in,” Karrde said as he leaned on the rock next to her, glancing around the mossy, foggy environment, the lights of Theed barely visible in the distance. “I quite like your peaceful world. Rather not let the Empire chip away at it all. Amidala... Padmé would have done the same for Coruscant, if she’d gotten the chance.”

“Coruscant, and many other worlds,” Sabé said, tears forming in her eyes.

“Hold on a minute, I know something that’ll help,” he said, rushing back into the _Light-Sabé-Er_ and returning with a bottle and two glasses, and began pouring out drinks for them both.

“As bittersweet as this day may be, I’d rather not resort to drowning my sorrows with alcohol,” Sabé said skeptically. She’d tried that recently, it hadn’t left a good impression.

“Don’t think of it as ‘drowning your sorrows’. Think of it as waking up your inner calm with a cold splash to the face,” he said, offering her the glass and raising his own. “To Queen Amidala!”

“To Padmé Naberrie,” Sabé said, trying to smile.

“Righteous sovereign!” Karrde continued.

“Esteemed senator.”

“Defender of the Republic!”

“Light of the Rebellion.”

“Best friend!”

“First love...”

“Absolutely horrendous selector of men!” Karrde said, referring, due to an incorrect analysis on his part, to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“You cannot even _imagine_,” Sabé said exasperatedly, referring from firsthand knowledge to Anakin Skywalker, Rush Clovis, and assorted other disasters.

The glasses clinked and they downed the Corellian brandy together. Finding the drink appealing, Sabé immediately began pouring another glass.

“I wouldn’t drink too much-” Karrde began as he tried to pull the bottle from Sabé, only for her to jerk it away again. “-because I swiped that from one of Vrask’s stashes.”

Sabé immediately contented herself with what she had and replaced the cap. Broken bones were easily healed with modern technology, but it still chafed Sabé how easily she’d been thrashed by that Trandoshan.

They returned to the _Drifting Sun_ to find Dormé and Moteé hanging from Vrask’s biceps, while Eirtaé was clinging to Vrask’s back with her arms around the muscular show-off’s neck.

"Told you I could lift you all," Vrask said, setting the three puny humans down as they rummaged through their pockets to hand over the credits they'd gambled away on a bet. Counting her winnings, Vrask suggested, "Double or nothing says you three can't lift me."

"Do _not_ take that bet," Sabé warned her comrades as she and Karrde stepped inside.

“To celebrate our success, I brought- Ah. You already have... one of my bottles,” Vrask said coldly as she held a bottle of Corellian brandy in each hand to share with everyone.

“I’ve had enough alcohol to last me a year, thank you,” said Sabé, already regretting that second glass of brandy. Turning to the two smugglers, she asked “Would you please excuse us a moment?”

Left alone in the security of the _Drifting Sun_, the handmaidens were together for what Sabé hoped would not be the final time.

“I want you to help me in the coming rebellion against the Empire,” Sabé said, aware of what she was asking of them. Although they had been responded to her call for help, the others all had lives here, and she was expecting them to give it up. Coming to Theed to participate in her plan, even acting under aliases and out of sight, was an incredible risk considering Panaka would certainly suspect all of them. “With our skills, we could make a difference. I know of others who intend to move offensively against Palpatine’s regime. Be warned, it will become violent.”

“There are affairs I’d like to get in order back home,” said Eirtaé. That response from her was the most surprising, as Sabé knew Eirtaé had the most promising life and career out of all of them in both art and aquaculture. “But I’m with you.”

Dormé and Moteé smiled and nodded.

“I really don’t deserve any of you,” Sabé said, the true meaning behind her words going unnoticed. Hopefully, if circumstances allowed, she could share the truth with them all. “I understand, and will be back for you all soon. Please, reach out to the others if you can. Let them know.”

* * *

It would be better to leave quickly before the whole planet got locked down. Not that planetary security ever meant much to a good smuggler. Karrde would've liked to get going immediately, assuming Vrask would ever stop hugging Sabé and put her down.

“I look forward to working with you again,” Vrask said as Sabé’s feet finally touched the ground and the former went to prep the ship, leaving Karrde to say his goodbye.

“Karrde, contact me if you come up with any plan that will damage the Empire,” Sabé said. “I’d like to repay you for this.”

Despite all the parts of his brain screaming at him to say something else after that hit to his bank accounts, his head on the verge of bursting from the overload of dissonance, Karrde calmly replied, “You’re not in debt to me.”

“Even so, this will show you how to reach me. Please forgive the various typographical errors, which are purely accidental,” Sabé said, tossing a data card with several frequencies and drop points she used for reaching contacts. Plugging it into his pocket datapad, Karrde saw the files were labeled ‘Sabé’s Kalling Karrde’, and he didn’t try to hide his smile. “I also know quite a few people who could use a good smuggler to get medical supplies and weapons past imperial patrols. You’ll get paid, of course.”

“Happy to be of service... One more thing,” he said as he stepped back into the ship, his greed thus appeased, though not taking the offer as the great triumph he’d been expecting. A moment later he presented her with a pot containing a cluster of segments propagated off from his main callacacta plant, which had taken well to the Naboo soil and were already sprouting new roots. “I thought this might spruce up the _Drifting Sun_.”

“Oh, why thank you,” Sabé said as she took the plant and inspected it carefully. “You hid a tracking or listening device somewhere in the soil, didn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t insult your sense of caution by trying.”

“You realize I’m going to sift through all the soil and replace the pot no matter what you say, don’t you?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” he said playfully. "Just be careful not to mess up the new roots when you do."

“I will. I also brought something I thought you might like,” Sabé said, removing and tossing one of her trick rings over.

“How very considerate... Hope to see you again soon, Sabé,” Karrde said, testing out the extension and retraction of the hidden poisoned needle as the door closed.

Settling down into their seats, airlock sealed up behind them, the green and blue world was soon behind the smugglers. Beside him, Karrde could sense Vrask smirking, or what constituted a smirk with her facial structure.

“Quit staring at me like that,” he grumbled as he tested out the feel of the black ring.

“Quit stealing my brandy,” Vrask grumbled back. With no more handmaidens around to listen, she asked, “How much money did you give away?”

_Padmé Kriffing Naberrie posthumously infecting me with her kriffing belief in the ability of all people to make the galaxy a kinder kriffing place._

_Things were better when I didn’t believe anything could get better._

“I didn’t _give away_ any money, I made an _investment_ in the _future_ of the _galaxy_,” Karrde said through gritted teeth and a disconcerting attempt at a smile as he tried to convince himself of his words. “Come on, let’s go blackmail some Core World nobility or something. I’m going to recoup this in a week.”

* * *

Three days had passed since she’d triggered the pulse, the reports of incompetence from the current administration spreading throughout the Empire accompanied by images of the collapsed military parade and spreading ion pulse seconds before the cameras were wrecked. Claims were made of a bomb threat, but no evidence of such could be found, and even had they decided to assert the threat had been real and necessitated the pulse, it didn’t change the cost of the damages as dozens of military vehicles were reduced to little more than mounds of scrap metal. Questions were raised as to the necessity of the ion pulse or whether it should be removed, as well as inquiries as to the security measures governing the weapon’s activation. On Naboo, no one was certain of what happened, and that only made the imperials stationed here look clumsier in the eyes of the larger Empire.

The whole situation was an expensive, confusing mess in which no one completely understood what happened, as intended. There was a noticeable discrepancies between official explanations, some statements claiming legitimate threats demanded the pulse and the officers who used it should be praised, others attempting to pin all blame for the catastrophic mistake on a select few and punish them harshly, writing it off as the fault of a few to save face. Moff Panaka certainly believed foul play had ruined the celebration, and he undoubtedly also suspected Sabé had a hand in it.

Back in the _Drifting Sun_, Sabé stood in front of her mirror, hair down past her shoulders, scissors in hand, opening and closing them in the same repetitive motion she had been for the last fifteen minutes. The sound of the smooth metal blades grinding against each other with each motion soothed her nerves as she tried to visualize what she wanted.

_That was your plan. Not hers,_ she told herself. _You struck the Empire across the face. Not her._

The one reason she’d kept her hair this length for so many years was to be able to match Padmé whenever the need arose. It was pointless now. Pointless, and one more subtle way she was making herself miserable every single day. Covering up the mirror didn’t hide the way she looked, it reminded her.

_You can survive without her._

All the stress and effort of planning and executing her act of sabotage had been nothing compared to this, but she refused to let herself leave until this was done.

Lengths of hair fell to the floor around her, bit by bit cutting the hair down to chin length into a short, layered bob cut. There would be no mistaking her for Padmé now, and Sabé’s head felt so much lighter. Taking a few minutes to cut off any stray hairs, Sabé stared at herself for a time, feeling unexpectedly happy with this small step in the right direction.

In the _Drifting Sun's_ cargo hold lay something she snagged out of storage in the aftermath of the disruption she’d caused after all the decorations had been taken down: several of the banners that had been hanging over the palace, black lengths of cloth emblazoned with the white imperial crest.

The autopilot kept the shuttle headed towards Theed while Sabé opened the rear ramp mid-flight, pulled out a laser lighter, and set the banners on fire in several spots, watching the flames spread as the smoke was sucked into the slipstream. The fabric was wonderfully flammable.

The flaming banners dropped from the rear of the shuttle as Sabé retook control and ascended into the sky, scorched symbols of the Empire fluttering into the dome of the palace, a final parting message to imperial collaborators.

_I won’t be gone long._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sabé and Karrde are a friendship I never would’ve expected, but one I really enjoy writing now. It's not exactly one-upmanship or a rivalry, but they are so similar in their skill sets and thought processes it's fun to write them deducing things and keeping pace with each other.
> 
> The more I thought about this meetup, and the more I wrote, the more I realized how well the two work as counterparts, similar in some ways, opposite in others. Both of them are non-Force wielders who use manipulation and deception to get the reactions they want from people, are overprepared to the point of paranoia, encourage others to underestimate them, and are obsessively dedicated to their jobs. Sabé’s disguises involve being ornately dressed and stoic, leading people to think she’s delicate and passive when she’s really a highly-trained and attentive bodyguard. Karrde presents himself as plainly dressed and expressive to appear dumb and unintimidating when he’s rapidly rising up through the criminal underworld. Sabé comes from a pacifistic society and tries to uphold those ideals, but she’ll use violence if she thinks it’s necessary, while Karrde normally deals with murderous criminals but prefers negotiation and cooperation whenever possible. 
> 
> I came to the conclusion that Karrde was a lower-class Coruscanti, though Karrde never had a given homeworld in Legends, because this way he and Sabé both have experience with the failures of the Republic. It also helps connect him tangentially to events in Queen’s Shadow, as like Sabé mentioned, Karrde is someone Padmé would’ve helped, and he was among the populace reading the tabloid articles written about Padmé between sections. The thought occurred to me that Karrde might not actually be from Coruscant and he just decided to roll with her guess as another misdirection, but unless I think of something even better, I'm sticking to that origin, it makes sense for him and I wrote scenes from his perspective with that in mind.
> 
> Them working as a pair keeps them both in their natural element, but lets them act off each other in ways that wouldn’t happen with Sabé and another handmaiden because none of them would treat their leader and close friend with anywhere near that level of flippancy, and they’d know each other too well by now to have these conversations. 
> 
> The single most irritating thing about writing this was figuring out where the hangar/power generator lies relative to the palace. At the start of TPM, everyone from Naboo was being taken away from be palace, and I assumed the Jedi just escorted them back through a different entrance to reach the royal starship. Then I watched footage from the new Battlefront map as a reference which shows they're separated by a canal. That didn't occur to me as it would require the queen to travel around the city to get to her starship which would be time consuming and a security risk because of how far the closest bridge across the canal is, and the TPM battle cuts straight from the hangar skirmish to Padmé inside the palace. By the time I'd realized this, my assumption the two buildings were connected was too big a part of the story, hence the underground passageways connecting the two, which was the only way I could reconcile things. THEN I read "Inside the World of Star Wars Episode I" and learned there is canonically an underground passage, so I determinedly problem-solved my way into matching official material. Yet again.
> 
> On the plus side, that bit about the handrails is my favorite payoff out of any joke I've written. It was all worth it for that.


End file.
